And it hath been, instead of spice is muck, And instead of a girdle, a rope, And instead of curled work, baldness, And instead of a stomacher a girdle of sackcloth.

There is none weary, nor stumbling in it, It doth not slumber, nor sleep, Nor opened hath been the girdle of its loins, Nor drawn away the latchet of its sandals.

And righteousness hath been the girdle of his loins, And faithfulness -- the girdle of his reins.

And I have clothed him with thy coat, And with thy girdle I strengthen him, And thy garment I give into his hand, And he hath been for a father to the inhabitant of Jerusalem, And to the house of Judah.

Pass through thy land as a brook, Daughter of Tarshish, there is no more a girdle.

Tremble ye women, ye easy ones, Be troubled, ye confident ones, Strip and make bare, with a girdle on the loins,