And bowed down is the low, and humbled the high, And the eyes of the haughty become low,

The noisy city, the jubilant town,
is filled with revelry.
Your dead did not die by the sword;
they were not killed in battle.

The town is waste and broken down: every house is shut up, so that no man may come in.

For rest doth the hand of Jehovah on this mountain, And trodden down is Moab under Him, As trodden down is straw on a dunghill.

For the strong town is without men, an unpeopled living-place; and she has become a waste land: there the young ox will take his rest, and its branches will be food for him.

By feet trodden down is the proud crown of the drunkards of Ephraim,

You are turning things upside down! Is the wet earth the same to you as the one who is forming it? will the thing made say of him who made it, He made me not: or the thing formed say of him who gave it form, He has no knowledge?

For from the voice of Jehovah broken down is Asshur, With a rod He smiteth.

But the Rab-shakeh said, Is it to your master or to you that my master has sent me to say these words? has he not sent me to the men seated on the wall? for they are the people who will be short of food with you when the town is shut in.

Then broken up as the dawn is thy light, And thy health in haste springeth up, Gone before thee hath thy righteousness, The honour of Jehovah doth gather thee.