Go ye up on her walls, and destroy, And a completion make not, Turn aside her branches, for they are not Jehovah's,

'An olive, green, fair, of goodly fruit,' Hath Jehovah called thy name, At the noise of a great tumult He hath kindled fire against it, And broken have been its thin branches.

With the weeping of Jazer, I weep for thee, O vine of Sibmah, Thy branches have passed over a sea, Unto the sea of Jazer they have come, On thy summer fruits, and on thy harvest, A spoiler hath fallen.

As a palm they are stiff, and they speak not, They are surely borne, for they step not, Be not afraid of them, for they do no evil, Yea, also to do good is not in them.