¹³ O my God, make them as a rolling thing, As stubble before wind.

⁵ They are as chaff before wind, And a messenger of Jehovah driving away.

¹⁸ They are as straw before wind, And as chaff a hurricane hath stolen away,

²⁴ And I scatter them as stubble, Passing away, by a wind of the wilderness.

²⁴ Yea, they have not been planted, Yea, they have not been sown, Yea, not taking root in the earth is their stock, And also He hath blown upon them, and they wither, And a whirlwind as stubble taketh them away.

²⁵ A leaf driven away dost Thou terrify? And the dry stubble dost Thou pursue?

¹² whose fan `is' in his hand, and he will thoroughly cleanse his floor, and will gather his wheat to the storehouse, but the chaff he will burn with fire unquenchable.'

² Who stirred up from the east a righteous one? He calleth him to His foot, He giveth before him nations, And kings He causeth him to rule, He giveth `them' as dust `to' his sword, As driven stubble `to' his bow.

¹² Wo `to' the multitude of many peoples, As the sounding of seas they sound; And `to' the wasting of nations, As the wasting of mighty waters they are wasted.

¹³ Nations as the wasting of many waters are wasted, And He hath pushed against it, And it hath fled afar off, And been pursued as chaff of hills before wind, And as a rolling thing before a hurricane.

¹⁴ At even-time, lo, terror, before morning it is not, This `is' the portion of our spoilers, And the lot of our plunderers!

¹¹ Why dost Thou turn back Thy hand, Even Thy right hand? From the midst of Thy bosom remove `it'.

¹² And God `is' my king of old, Working salvation in the midst of the earth.

¹ To the Overseer. -- A Psalm, a song of David. Rise doth God -- scattered are His enemies! And those hating Him flee from His face.

² As the driving away of smoke Thou drivest away, As the melting of wax before fire, The wicked perish at the presence of God.

⁴ Thou `art' He, my king, O God, Command the deliverances of Jacob.

¹ To the Overseer, on `The Hind of the Morning.' -- A Psalm of David. My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? Far from my salvation, The words of my roaring?

⁷ And in the abundance of Thine excellency Thou throwest down Thy withstanders, Thou sendest forth Thy wrath -- It consumeth them as stubble.