A lion's whelp is Judah, For prey, my son, thou hast gone up; He hath bent, he hath crouched as a lion, And as a lioness; who causeth him to arise?

Dost Thou not as milk pour me out? And as cheese curdle me?

But to Thee, O Jehovah, my Lord, are mine eyes, In Thee I have trusted, Make not bare my soul.

For I pour waters on a thirsty one, And floods on a dry land, I pour My Spirit on thy seed, And My blessing on thine offspring.

Cursed is the day in which I was born, The day that my mother bare me, Let it not be blessed!

And the Lord said unto him, 'Be going on, because a choice vessel to Me is this one, to bear My name before nations and kings -- the sons also of Israel;