19 My bowels, my bowels! I am pained 'at' the walls of my heart, Make a noise for me doth My heart, I am not silent, For the voice of a trumpet I have heard, O my soul -- a shout of battle!
20 Destruction on destruction is proclaimed, For spoiled hath been all the land, Suddenly spoiled have been my tents, In a moment -- my curtains.
21 Till when do I see an ensign? Do I hear the voice of a trumpet?
22 For my people 'are' foolish, me they have not known, Foolish sons 'are' they, yea, they 'are' not intelligent, Wise 'are' they to do evil, And to do good they have not known.
23 I looked 'to' the land, and lo, waste and void, And unto the heavens, and their light is not.
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