-- They are pouring out gold from a bag, And silver on the beam they weigh, They hire a refiner, and he maketh it a god, They fall down, yea, they bow themselves.
They lift him up on the shoulder, They carry him, and cause him to rest in his place, And he standeth, from his place he moveth not, Yea, one crieth unto him, and he answereth not, From his adversity he saveth him not.
Calling from the east a ravenous bird, From a far land the man of My counsel, Yea, I have spoken, yea, I bring it in, I have formed [it], yea, I do it.
I have brought near My righteousness, It is not far off, And My salvation -- it doth not tarry, And I have given in Zion salvation, To Israel My glory!