11 I give to thee a king in Mine anger, And I take away in My wrath.
12 Bound up 'is' the iniquity of Ephraim, Hidden 'is' his sin,
13 Pangs of a travailing woman come to him, He 'is' a son not wise, For he remaineth not the time for the breaking forth of sons.
14 From the hand of Sheol I do ransom them, From death I redeem them, Where 'is' thy plague, O death? Where thy destruction, O Sheol? Repentance is hid from Mine eyes.
15 Though he among brethren produceth fruit, Come in doth an east wind, a wind of Jehovah, From a wilderness it is coming up, And it drieth up his fountain, And become dry doth his spring, It -- it spoileth a treasure -- every desirable vessel.
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