And with a flood passing over, An end He maketh of its place, And His enemies doth darkness pursue.

Lo, on the mountains the feet of one proclaiming tidings, sounding peace! Celebrate, O Judah, thy festivals, complete thy vows, For add no more to pass over into thee doth the worthless, He hath been completely cut off!

And the flame of a sword, and the lightning of a spear, And the abundance of the wounded, And the weight of carcases, Yea, there is no end to the bodies, They stumble over their bodies.

There is no weakening of thy destruction, Grievous is thy smiting, All hearing thy fame have clapped the hand at thee, For over whom did not thy wickedness pass continually?