And she knew not that I had given to her, The corn, and the new wine, and the oil. Yea, silver I did multiply to her, And the gold they prepared for Baal.

What do I do to thee, O Ephraim? What do I do to thee, O Judah? Your goodness is as a cloud of the morning, And as dew rising early -- going.

Gilead is a city of workers of iniquity, Slippery from blood.

With their wickedness they make glad a king, And with their lies -- princes.

They have made kings, and not by Me, They have made princes, and I have not known, Their silver and their gold they have made to them idols, So that they are cut off.

Surely Gilead is iniquity, Only, vanity they have been, In Gilead bullocks they have sacrificed, Also their altars are as heaps, on the furrows of a field.

Therefore they are as a cloud of the morning, And as dew, rising early, going away, As chaff tossed about out of a floor, And as smoke out of a window.