For gone round hath the cry the border of Moab, Unto Eglaim is its howling, And to Beer-Elim is its howling.

In that day there is an altar to Jehovah In the midst of the land of Egypt, And a standing pillar near its border to Jehovah,

Hath he not, if he have made level its face, Then scattered fitches, and cummin sprinkle, And hath placed the principal wheat, And the appointed barley, And the rie in its own border?

And have made of agate thy pinnacles, And thy gates of carbuncle stones, And all thy border of stones of delight,