12 Dost thou trust in him That he doth bring back thy seed? And 'to' thy threshing-floor doth gather 'it'?
13 The wing of the rattling ones exulteth, Whether the pinion of the ostrich or hawk.
14 For she leaveth on the earth her eggs, And on the dust she doth warm them,
15 And she forgetteth that a foot may press it, And a beast of the field tread it down.
16 Her young ones it hath hardened without her, In vain 'is' her labour without fear.
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