25. Go not forth to the field, And in the way walk not, For a sword hath the enemy, fear [is] round about.
26. O daughter of My people, Gird on sackcloth, and roll thyself in ashes, The mourning of an only one make for thee, A lamentation most bitter, For suddenly come doth the spoiler against us.
27. A watch-tower I have given thee, Among My people a fortress, And thou knowest, and hast tried their way.