Whose harvest, the hungry, eateth up, and, even out of thorn hedges, he taketh it, and the snare gapeth for their substance.

The way of the sluggard, is like a thorn hedge, but, the path of the upright, is a raised road.

The best of them, is as a sharp briar, and, the most upright, worse than a thorn hedge, The day of thy watchmen - of thy visitation, hath come, Now, shall be their confusion!