For rain in spring whom but the Lord entreat we? He it is, none else, fashions the snow,✻ waters the crops on this farm or that.

Vain the false god’s foretelling, vainly diviner cheats us, and dreams delude; comfort they have none to give; such ways Israel has followed, like a flock of sheep untended, and to its cost.

What marvel if my anger blazed out against the shepherds? A reckoning I must have with yonder buck-goats; ay, the Lord of hosts would keep strict count of his flock, the sons of Juda.

Who but Israel is the proud charger I will ride into battle?

Corner-stone, he, of the building, peg of the tent’s rope, bow that shall win the day; spoilers of the world he, none other, shall send forth.

Warriors they shall be that go out to battle trampling all before them in the mire; does not the Lord go out to battle at their side? Well mounted, their enemies could yet nothing win.

Such aid the men of Juda shall have, the sons of Joseph such deliverance; in pity I will restore them, and all shall be as it was before I cast them off from me; I am the Lord their God, shall I not heed them?

Ephraim, of great warriors the peer! Glad all hearts shall be, as when the wine-cup goes round; children of his shall acclaim the sight, and triumph lustily in the Lord.

Flock of my ransoming, see how they gather at my call! Thriving now as they throve long since,

yet scattered through the world, in those distant lands they shall remember me; with spirits revived, they and their children shall return.

Back from Egypt, back from Assyria I will summon them, rally them, to Galaad and Lebanon bring them home; and that home shall be too small for them.

Crossed, yonder straits, the sea’s wave checked, depths of the river disappointed of their prey! Assyria’s pride brought low, empire of Egypt cut down!

In the Lord they shall find strength, under his protection come and go; so runs the divine promise.