For, the waters of Nimrim are desolations, For, withered hath been the hay, Finished hath been the tender grass, A green thing there hath not been.

And their inhabitants are feeble-handed, They were broken down, and are dried up. They have been the herb of the field, And the greenness of the tender grass, Grass of the roofs, And blasted corn, before it hath risen up.

A voice is saying, 'Call,' And he said, 'What do I call?' All flesh is grass, and all its goodliness is As a flower of the field:

Withered hath grass, faded the flower, For the Spirit of Jehovah blew upon it, Surely the people is grass;

Withered hath grass, faded the flower, But a word of our God riseth for ever.

And they have sprung up as among grass, As willows by streams of water.

I -- I am He -- your comforter, Who art thou -- and thou art afraid of man? he dieth! And of the son of man -- grass he is made!

And ye have seen, and rejoiced hath your heart, And your bones as tender grass do flourish, And the hand of Jehovah hath been known unto His servants, And He hath been indignant with His enemies.