"Listen to me, all you who are serious about right living and committed to seeking GOD. Ponder the rock from which you were cut, the quarry from which you were dug.
Likewise I, GOD, will comfort Zion, comfort all her mounds of ruins. I'll transform her dead ground into Eden, her moonscape into the garden of GOD, A place filled with exuberance and laughter, thankful voices and melodic songs.
My deliverance arrives on the run, my salvation right on time. I'll bring justice to the peoples. Even faraway islands will look to me and take hope in my saving power.
Look up at the skies, ponder the earth under your feet. The skies will fade out like smoke, the earth will wear out like work pants, and the people will die off like flies. But my salvation will last forever, my setting-things-right will never be obsolete.
"Listen now, you who know right from wrong, you who hold my teaching inside you: Pay no attention to insults, and when mocked don't let it get you down.
Those insults and mockeries are moth-eaten, from brains that are termite-ridden, But my setting-things-right lasts, my salvation goes on and on and on."
Wake up, wake up, flex your muscles, GOD! Wake up as in the old days, in the long ago. Didn't you once make mincemeat of Rahab, dispatch the old chaos-dragon?
In the same way GOD's ransomed will come back, come back to Zion cheering, shouting, Joy eternal wreathing their heads, exuberant ecstasies transporting them-- and not a sign of moans or groans.
You've forgotten me, GOD, who made you, who unfurled the skies, who founded the earth. And here you are, quaking like an aspen before the tantrums of a tyrant who thinks he can kick down the world. But what will come of the tantrums?
I teach you how to talk, word by word, and personally watch over you, Even while I'm unfurling the skies, setting earth on solid foundations, and greeting Zion: 'Welcome, my people!'"
So wake up! Rub the sleep from your eyes! Up on your feet, Jerusalem! You've drunk the cup GOD handed you, the strong drink of his anger. You drank it down to the last drop, staggered and collapsed, dead-drunk.
Your sons and daughters have passed out, strewn in the streets like stunned rabbits, Sleeping off the strong drink of GOD's anger, the rage of your God.
Your Master, your GOD, has something to say, your God has taken up his people's case: "Look, I've taken back the drink that sent you reeling. No more drinking from that jug of my anger!
I've passed it over to your abusers to drink, those who ordered you, 'Down on the ground so we can walk all over you!' And you had to do it. Flat on the ground, you were the dirt under their feet."