¹⁰ it is sharpened that it may make a slaughter; it is furbished that it may be as lightning: shall we then make mirth? the rod of my son, it condemns every tree.

² They don't consider in their hearts that I remember all their wickedness. Now their own deeds have engulfed them. They are before my face.

¹ The burden of Tyre. Howl, you ships of Tarshish! For it is laid waste, so that there is no house, no entering in. From the land of Kittim it is revealed to them.