Send lambs to the ruler of the land,
from Sela in the desert
to the mountain of Daughter Zion.
Like a bird fleeing,
forced from the nest,
the daughters of Moab
will be at the fords of the Arnon.
Give us counsel and make a decision.
Shelter us at noonday
with shade that is as dark as night.
Hide the refugees;
do not betray the one who flees.
We have heard of Moab’s pride —
how very proud he is —
his haughtiness, his pride, his arrogance,
and his empty boasting.
Therefore let Moab wail;
let every one of them wail for Moab.
You who are completely devastated, mourn
for the raisin cakes of Kir-hareseth.
For Heshbon’s terraced vineyards
and the grapevines of Sibmah have withered.
The rulers of the nations
have trampled its choice vines
that reached as far as Jazer
and spread to the desert.
Their shoots spread out
and reached the sea.
Therefore I moan like the sound of a lyre for Moab,
as does my innermost being for Kir-heres.
When Moab appears
and tires himself out on the high place
and comes to his sanctuary to pray,
it will do him no good.
Christian Standard Bible®, Copyright © 2017, 2020 by Holman Bible Publishers.
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