The Lantern

Jeremiah10

Hear ye the word which Yahweh hath spoken unto you, O house of Israel:—

Thus, saith Yahweh—Unto the way of the nations, become not ye accustomed, Nor at the signs of the heavens, be ye dismayed,—Because the nations are dismayed at them.

For as for the prescribed customs of the peoples, vanity, they are,—For a tree out of the forest, one cutteth down, Work for the hands of a skilled workman with the axe:

With silver and with gold, he decketh it,—With nails and with hammers, they fasten them, that it may not totter.

Mere palm-trunks turned, they are and cannot speak, They must needs be, carried, for they cannot take a step, Be not afraid of them, for they cannot do harm, And even to do good, is not in their power.

None, there is, like unto thee, O Yahweh,—Great, art, thou, And, great, is thy Name, for might.

Who would not revere thee, O King of nations? For, thee, doth it beseem; Forasmuch as among all the wise men of the nations And throughout all their royal estate, None, there is like unto thee.

But at once, do they become brutish and stupid,—An example of utmost vanity, is, a tree!

Silver spread into plates, from Tarshish is brought, And gold, from Uphaz, Work for the craftsman and for the hands of the smith,—Blue and purple, is their clothing, Work for the skilled, are they all.

But, Yahweh, is God in truth, He, is a God that, liveth, And a King of times age-abiding,—At his anger, quaketh the earth, And nations cannot endure his wrath.

Thus, shall ye say unto them, The gods that made not the heavens, And the earth, Shall perish out of the earth, And from under these heavens!

He that made the earth by his power, That established the world by his wisdom,—And by his understanding stretched out the heavens,

At the voice that he uttered, there was a tumult of waters in the heavens, And he caused vapours to ascend from the ends of the earth,—The lightnings for rain, he made, And brought forth wind out of his treasuries.

Every son of earth hath become too brutish to discern, Every goldsmith, hath been put to shame by a graven image,—For a falsehood, is his molten image, Seeing there is no breath in them.

Vanity, they are, the handiwork of mockeries,—In the time of their visitation, shall they perish.

Not like these, is the portion of Jacob, For the fashioner of all things, is, he, And, Israel, is his inherited sceptre,—Yahweh of hosts, is his name.

Fold up, from the ground thy travelling carpet,—O inhabitress of the fortress;

For, thus, saith Yahweh, Behold me! slinging out the inhabitants of the land at this throw,—And I will distress them that they may discover it.

Woe to me! for my grievous injury, Severe, is my wound,—But, I, said, Verily, this, is an affliction and I must bear it:

My tent, is laid waste, And all my tent-cords, are broken,—My children, are gone forth from me and they, are not. There is none, To stretch out any more my tent, Or to set up my curtains.

For the shepherds, have become brutish, And Yahweh, have they not sought,—For this cause, have they not prospered, And, all their flock, is scattered.

The noise of a rumour! lo it hath come! Even a great commotion out of the land of the North,—To make the cities of Judah, A desolation, A den of jackals.

I know O Yahweh, That not to a son of earth, pertaineth his own path,—Not, to the man who walketh, also to direct his own steps.

Chastise me, O Yahweh But yet in measure,—Not in thine anger, lest thou make me few.

Pour out thy wrath—Upon the nations that know thee not, and Upon the families that, upon thy Name, have not called,—For they have devoured Jacob Yea they have devoured him and consumed him, And, his habitation, have they made desolate.