Take a harp, go about the city, O harlot who has been forgotten; make sweet melody, sing many songs so that you may be remembered.

We conceived; we have been in pain, we gave birth to wind. We have not brought about any salvation in the earth; nor have the people of the world fallen.

So says Jehovah, the Holy One of Israel, and the One who formed him, Do you ask Me of things to come? Do you give command to Me about My sons, and about the work of My hands?

Bel bows down, Nebo stoops; their idols were on the beasts and on the cattle; the things you carried about have become a load, a burden for the weary.

I have foretold the former things from the beginning; and they went out of My mouth; and I made them hear; I acted suddenly; and they came about.