Then shall the fishers, lament, And all shall mourn who cast in the Nile a hook, - And they who spread nets on the face of the waters shall languish;

Wherefore, When I came in, was there no one? When I called, was there none to answer? Is mine own hand, really shortened, that it cannot redeem? Or is there not, in me, strength to deliver? Lo! by my rebuke, I dry up the sea I make rivers a desert, Their fish Stinketh, for want of water, Yea dieth, for thirst:

And he will judge between the nations, And be umpire to many peoples, - And they will beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning-hooks, Nation - against nation, shall not lift up sword, Neither shall they learn any more to make war,

For before harvest, when the bud is perfect, And, the blossom, becometh a ripening grape, Then will one cut down the twigs with pruning-hooks, And the tendrils, will he remove and cast down: