Were they wise, they would think upon this,
Gain insight into their future:
"How could one have routed a thousand,
Or two put ten thousand to flight,
Unless their Rock had sold them,
The Lord had given them up?"
For their rock is not like our Rock,
In our enemies' own estimation.
Ah! The vine for them is from Sodom,
From the vineyards of Gomorrah;
The grapes for them are poison,
A bitter growth their clusters.
Their wine is the venom of asps,
The pitiless poison of vipers.
Lo, I have it all put away,
Sealed up in My storehouses,
To be My vengeance and recompense,
At the time that their foot falters.
Yea, their day of disaster is near,
And destiny rushes upon them.
For the Lord will vindicate His people
And take revenge for His servants,
When He sees that their might is gone,
And neither bond nor free is left.
He will say: Where are their gods,
The rock in whom they sought refuge,
Who ate the fat of their offerings
And drank their libation wine?
Let them rise up to your help,
And let them be a shield unto you!
See, then, that I, I am He;
There is no god beside Me.
I deal death and give life;
I wounded and I will heal:
None can deliver from My hand.