For the customs of the peoples are vanity; for one cuts a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman with the ax.
They deck it with silver and with gold. They fasten it with nails and with hammers, so that it can’t move.
They are like a palm tree, of turned work, and don’t speak. They must be carried, because they can’t move. Don’t be afraid of them; for they can’t do evil, neither is it in them to do good.”
Who shouldn’t fear you, King of the nations? For it belongs to you. Because among all the wise men of the nations, and in all their royal estate, there is no one like you.
But they are together brutish and foolish, instructed by idols! It is just wood.
There is silver beaten into plates, which is brought from Tarshish, and gold from Uphaz, the work of the engraver and of the hands of the goldsmith. Their clothing is blue and purple. They are all the work of skillful men.
But the LORD is the true God. He is the living God, and an everlasting King. At his wrath, the earth trembles. The nations aren’t able to withstand his indignation.
“You shall say this to them: ‘The gods that have not made the heavens and the earth will perish from the earth, and from under the heavens.’”
God has made the earth by his power. He has established the world by his wisdom, and by his understanding has he stretched out the heavens.
When he utters his voice, the waters in the heavens roar, and he causes the vapors to ascend from the ends of the earth. He makes lightnings for the rain, and brings the wind out of his treasuries.
Every man has become brutish and without knowledge. Every goldsmith is disappointed by his engraved image; for his molten image is falsehood, and there is no breath in them.
They are vanity, a work of delusion. In the time of their visitation they will perish.
Woe is me because of my injury! My wound is serious; but I said, “Truly this is my grief, and I must bear it.”
My tent has been destroyed, and all my cords are broken. My children have gone away from me, and they are no more. There is no one to spread my tent any more, to set up my curtains.
The voice of news, behold, it comes, and a great commotion out of the north country, to make the cities of Judah a desolation, a dwelling place of jackals.
Pour out your wrath on the nations that don’t know you, and on the families that don’t call on your name; for they have devoured Jacob. Yes, they have devoured him, consumed him, and have laid waste his habitation.
