11 O afflicted, storm-tossed, not comforted, Lo, I am laying with cement thy stones, And have founded thee with sapphires,
12 And have made of agate thy pinnacles, And thy gates of carbuncle stones, And all thy border of stones of delight,
13 And all thy sons are taught of Jehovah, And abundant 'is' the peace of thy sons.
14 In righteousness thou establishest thyself, Be far from oppression, for thou fearest not, And from ruin, for it cometh not near unto thee.
15 Lo, he doth diligently assemble without My desire, Who hath assembled near thee? By thee he falleth!
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