⁸ De trænger ikke hverandre, hver følger sin egen Sti. Trods Våbenmagt styrter de frem uden at lade sig standse, de kaster sig over Byen,

¹⁸ Men jeg vil frydes i HE EN, juble i min Frelses Gud.

³ Therefore they will be like the morning mist, and like the dew that passes away early, like the chaff that is driven with the whirlwind out of the threshing floor, and like the smoke out of the chimney.