¹⁰ Wo to me, my mother, For thou hast borne me a man of strife, And a man of contention to all the land, I have not lent on usury, Nor have they lent on usury to me -- All of them are reviling me.

⁴ Sanctify ye against her the battle, Rise, and we go up at noon. Wo to us, for turned hath the day, For stretched out are the shades of evening,