And a rod hath come out from the stock of Jesse, And a branch from his roots is fruitful.

Yea, they have not been planted, Yea, they have not been sown, Yea, not taking root in the earth is their stock, And also He hath blown upon them, and they wither, And a whirlwind as stubble taketh them away.

And none doth turn it back unto his heart, Nor hath knowledge nor understanding to say, 'Half of it I have burned in the fire, Yea, also, I have baked bread over its coals, I roast flesh and I eat, And its remnant for an abomination I make, To the stock of a tree I fall down.'