They with the imagination of their heart are like an oven, their sleep is all night like the sleep of a baker, in the morning is he as hot as the flame of fire:

Therefore shall sorrows come upon him, as upon a woman that travaileth. An indiscreet son is he: for he considereth not, that he should not have been able to have endured in the time of his birth,

His sprouts shall go, and his strength shall be as the olive tree, and the odor to him as Lebanon.

Israel shall perish, the Gentiles shall entreat him as a foul vessel.

Though I put my law in writing for him in ten thousand rules, they are to him as a strange thing.