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.

A luxuriant vine, is Israel, fruit, beseemeth him, - According to the abundance of his fruit, hath he brought abundance to the altars, according to the goodliness of his land, hath he made goodly statues.

Ye have plowed lawlessness, perversity, have ye reaped, ye have eaten the fruit of deception, - because thou didst trust in thy chariots, in the multitude of thy mighty men.

Ephraim saith - What to me any more are idols? I, have answered, and have closely observed him, I, am like a fir-tree that is green, From me, is thy fruit found.