For, to the wind, they sow, and, to the whirlwind, they reap: stalk, hath it none, That which shooteth forth, shall yield no meal, If so be it yield, foreigners, swallow it lip,

Smitten is Ephraim, their root, hath dried up, fruit, shall they not bear, - yea, though they do bring forth, yet will I slay the darlings of their womb.

Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap ye at thc bidding of lovingkindness, furrow to yourselves the newly-ploughed soil, - then will be the time to seek Yahweh, until he come, that he may rain down righteousness for you.