Zephaniah

2 Collect your thoughts, aye collect them,—O nation depressed!

2 Ere yet the decree have given birth, Like chaff the day have vanished,—Ere yet shall come upon you The glow of the anger of Yahweh, Ere yet shall come upon you The day of the anger of Yahweh.

3 Seek Yahweh—All ye lowly of the land, Who have wrought what he appointed,—Seek righteousness, Seek humility, Peradventure ye shall be concealed, In the day of the anger of Yahweh.

4 For Gaza forsaken shall be, And Ashkelon a desolation,—Ashdod! at high noon shall they drive her forth, And Ekron be uprooted:

5 Alas! for the inhabitants of the line of the sea, The nation of Kerethim,—The word of Yahweh is against you, O Canaan of the land of the Philistines, Therefore will I destroy thee to the last inhabitant.

6 So shall the line of the sea become a meadow, The wells of shepherds And the folds of flocks;

7 And the line shall belong to the remnant of the house of Judah Thereon shall they feed their flocks,—In the houses of Ashkelon shall they at eventide lie down, For Yahweh their God will visit them And bring their captives back.

8 I have heard the reproach of Moab, And the revilings of the sons of Ammon,—Who have reproached my people, And have magnified themselves up to their bounds.

9 Wherefore as I live Declareth Yahweh of hosts, God of Israel, Surely Moab like Sodom shall become And the sons of Ammon like Gomorrah, A possession for the thorn And a pit of salt, Yea a desolation unto times age-abiding: The remnant of my people shall make of them a prey, And the residue of my nation shall inherit them.

10 This shall they have instead of their pride,—Because they reproached and magnified themselves against the people of Yahweh of hosts.

11 Terrible will Yahweh be against them, For he hath caused to waste away all the gods of the earth,—That men may bow down to him, Every one from his place, All the coastlands of the nations:

12 Even ye Ethiopians, The slain of my sword were they!

13 And may he stretch out his hand against the North, And destroy Assyria,—And may he make of Nineveh a desolation, Dry as the desert!

14 So shall lie down in her midst—flocks, Each living thing of a nation, Both pelican and bittern in her capitals shall roost,—A voice shall resound in the window, The bustard on the sill, For he hath destroyed, hath laid bare.

15 This is the city exultant That sat secure, That said in her heart, I [am]! And no one besides! How hath she become a desolation! A lair of beasts, Every one passing by her doth hiss, Shaketh his hand.