30. And delighted have the first-born of the poor, And the needy in confidence lie down, And I have put to death with famine thy root, And thy remnant it slayeth.
31. Howl, O gate; cry, O city, Melted art thou, Philistia, all of thee, For from the north smoke hath come, And there is none alone in his set places.
32. And what doth one answer the messengers of a nation? `That Jehovah hath founded Zion, And in it do the poor of His people trust!'