Treasury of Scripture Knowledge
For in this mountain shall the hand of the LORD rest, and Moab shall be trodden down under him, even as straw is trodden down for the dunghill.
Then will Yahweh of hosts prepare for all the peoples in this mountain, A banquet of fat things, A banquet of old wines, - Of fat things full of marrow, Of old wines well refined;
And there shall come to be, in that day, A root of Jesse, which shall be standing as an ensign of peoples, Unto him, shall nations seek, - And, his resting-place, shall be, glorious.
Make shrill thy voice and sing out thou inhabitress of Zion, - That great in the midst of thee, is the Holy One of Israel.
For, thus, said Yahweh unto me, - I must be quiet I must look on in my fixed place of abode, - Like a bright heat on the light, Like a cloud of dew in the heat of harvest.
For Yahweh hath chosen Zion, - He hath desired it as a dwelling for himself:
Round about, eighteen thousand. And the name of the city, from the day of Yahweh shall continue to be the name thereof.
Yahweh, hath set aside, thy judgments, hath turned back thy foe, - The king of Israel, Yahweh, is in thy midst, thou shalt not fear calamity, any more.
Exult greatly, O daughter of Zion, Shout in triumph, O daughter of Jerusalem, Lo! thy king, cometh unto thee, vindicated and victorious, is he, - lowly, and riding upon an ass, yea, upon a colt, a young ass.
For this cause, did the anger of Yahweh kindle upon his own people, And he stretched out his hand against them and smote them - So that the mountains, trembled, And, their dead bodies, served, for fuel in the midst of the streets. For all this, hath his anger, not turned back, But still, is his hand outstretched,
Against an irreligious nation, will I send him, Yea against the people with whom I am wroth, will I command him, - To capture spoil And lay hold on prey, And cause them to be trodden down as the mire of the lanes.
But, thou, art flung out from thy grave, Like a scion detested, Beshrouded with slain, the pierced of the sword, Like a carcase trod underfoot:
The foot trampleth it, - The feet of the lowly, The steps of the weak,
They perished at En-dor, They become manure for the soil!
My Lord, hath flouted at all my magnates, in my midst, He hath called against me a host, to crush my young men, - A winepress, hath My Lord trodden, to the virgin, the daughter of Judah.
For the dunghill
Madmenah, hath fled, - The inhabitants of Gebim, have gone into safety:
No more, is the praise of Moab, In Heshbon, have they devised against her, calamity, Come, and let us cut her off from being a nation, - Even thou, Madmen also, shalt be silenced, After thee, shall march the sword.