Isaiah 17

1 The oracle on Damascus, —Lo! Damascus, is to be removed from being a city, And shall become a heap of ruins:

2 Forsaken, are the desolate cities, —For flocks, shall they serve, Which shall lie down and have none to make them afraid.

3 Then shall the fortress cease from Ephraim, And the kingdom from Damascus and the remnant of Syria, —Like the glory of the sons of Israel, shall they be, —Declareth Yahweh of hosts.

4 And it shall come to pass in that day, That the glory of Jacob, shall be diminished, And, the fatness of his flesh, shall be wasted;

5 And it shall come to pass—That, as the harvestman gathereth standing corn, And with his arm—the ears, he reapeth, Yea it shall come to pass—That, so, shall he be who gleaneth ears, in the vale of Rephaim;

6 Yet shall there be left therein, a gleaning. As in the beating of an olive-tree, —Two-three berries in the head of the tree-top, —Four—five, among her fruitful boughs, Declareth Yahweh God of Israel.

7 In that day, shall the son of earth look to him that made him, —And his eyes unto the Holy One of Israel, be turned;

8 And he shall not look unto the altars the work of his own hands, —Nor to what his own fingers have made, shall his eye be turned, Whether Sacred Stems or Sun-pillars.

9 In that day, shall his fortified cities become Like a neglected bough and a topmost branch, Which they neglected because of the sons of Israel, —So shall there be desolation.

10 Because thou didst forget the God of thy salvation, And thy Rock of refuge, thou didst not remember, For this cause, shalt thou plant very pleasant plants, And, the slip of a stranger, shalt thou set:

11 In the day when thou plantest, fence thou in, And in the morning, cause thou, thy slip, to blossom, —A harvest will have waved in the day of destiny, and mortal pain.

12 Alas! the booming of many peoples, Like the booming of the seas, shall they boom, —And the rushing of nations! Like the rushing of mighty waters, shall they rush.

13 Though nations like the rushing of many waters, shall rush, Yet shall one rebuke him, And he shall flee far away, —And be chased As the chaff of the mountains before a wind, And as whirling stubble before a storm!

14 At eventide, lo! terror, Before morning, he is not! This, is the portion of them who plunder us, And the lot of them who make of us a prey.