Wail, you gates! Cry out, city!
Tremble with fear, all Philistia!
For a cloud of dust is coming from the north,
and there is no one missing from the invader’s ranks.

Have I given orders for such a day as this? a day for keeping yourselves from pleasure? is it only a question of the bent head, of putting on haircloth, and being seated in the dust? is this what seems to you a holy day, well-pleasing to the Lord?

Wolf and lamb do feed as one, And a lion as an ox eateth straw, As to the serpent -- dust is its food, They do no evil, nor destroy, In all My holy mountain, said Jehovah!