Brayeth a wild ass over tender grass? Loweth an ox over his provender?

For there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender shoots thereof will not cease.

He turneth not aside from darkness, His tender branch doth a flame dry up, And he turneth aside at the breath of His mouth!

“Let his flesh be restored and become fresher than in youth;
Let him return to the days of his youthful strength.

To satisfy a desolate and waste place, And to cause to shoot up The produce of the tender grass?

Doth he multiply unto thee supplications? Doth he speak unto thee tender things?