And ye have defiled the covering of Thy graven images of silver, And the ephod of thy molten image of gold, Thou scatterest them as a sickening thing, 'Go out,' thou sayest to it.

By the hand of thy servants Thou hast reviled the Lord, and sayest: In the multitude of my chariots I have come up to a high place of hills, The sides of Lebanon, And I cut down the height of its cedars, The choice of its firs, And I enter the high place of its extremity, The forest of its Carmel.

Why sayest thou, O Jacob? and speakest thou, O Israel? 'My way hath been hid from Jehovah, And from my God my judgment passeth over.'

And thou sayest, 'To the age I am mistress,' While thou hast not laid these things to thy heart, Thou hast not remembered the latter end of it.

And thou art confident in thy wickedness, Thou hast said, 'There is none seeing me,' Thy wisdom and thy knowledge, It is turning thee back, And thou sayest in thy heart, 'I am, and none else.'