Therefore, thou hast no caster of a line by lot In the assembly of Jehovah.

Be pained, and bring forth, O daughter of Zion, As a travailing woman, For now, thou goest forth from the city, And thou hast dwelt in the field, And thou hast gone unto Babylon, There thou art delivered, There redeem thee doth Jehovah from the hand of thine enemies.

Arise, and thresh, O daughter of Zion, For thy horn I make iron, And thy hoofs I make brass, And thou hast beaten small many peoples, And I have devoted to Jehovah their gain, And their wealth to the Lord of the whole earth!

And have cut off sorcerers out of thy hand, And observers of clouds thou hast none.

Thou givest truth to Jacob, kindness to Abraham, That thou hast sworn to our fathers, from the days of antiquity!