And what do ye at a day of inspection? And at desolation? -- from afar it cometh. Near whom do ye flee for help? And where do ye leave your honour?

For as at mount Perazim rise doth Jehovah, As at the valley in Gibeon He is troubled, To do His work -- strange is His work, And to do His deed -- strange is His deed.'

All ye inhabitants of the world, And ye dwellers of earth, At the lifting up of an ensign on hills ye look, And at the blowing of a trumpet ye hear.

As at the report of Egypt they are pained, So at the report of Tyre.

We feel like the blind for the wall, Yea, as without eyes we feel, We have stumbled at noon as at twilight, In desolate places as the dead.