The strong man will become tinder,
His work also a spark.
Thus they shall both burn together
And there will be none to quench them.

For the waters of Nimrim are desolate.
Surely the grass is withered, the tender grass died out,
There is no green thing.

“Come down and sit in the dust,
O virgin daughter of Babylon;
Sit on the ground without a throne,
O daughter of the Chaldeans!
For you shall no longer be called tender and delicate.

For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot,
And like a root out of parched ground;
He has no stately form or majesty
That we should look upon Him,
Nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him.