Isaiah

25 O Yahweh! my God thou art, I will exalt thee, I will praise thy Name, For thou hast done a wonderful thing,—Purposes of long ago, Faithfulness in truth.

2 For thou hast made of a citadel a mound, of a defenced city a ruin,—palaces for foreigners to be no city, To times age-abiding shall it not be built.

3 For this cause shall glorify thee—a strong people, The city of tyrannous nations shall revere thee;

4 For thou didst become A refuge to the weak, A refuge to the needy when distress was upon him,—A shelter from the storm, A shade from the heat, When the blast of tyrants was like a storm against a wall.

5 As heat in a desert the pomp of foreigners wilt thou subdue,—Heat—with the shade of a cloud, The song of tyrants become low.

6 Then will Yahweh of hosts prepare for all the peoples in this mountain A banquet of fat things, A banquet of old wines,—Of fat things full of marrow, Of old wines well refined;

7 And he will swallow up in this mountain The mask of the veil, the veil that is upon all the peoples,—And the web that is woven over all the nations.

8 Having swallowed up death itself victoriously My Lord Yahweh will wipe away tears from off all faces,—And the reproach of his own people will he remove from off all the earth, For Yahweh hath spoken.

9 So shall it be said in that day Lo! our God is this! We waited for him that he might save us,—This is Yahweh! We waited for him, Let us exult and rejoice in his salvation.

10 For the hand of Yahweh will settle down in this mountain,—Then shall Moab be trodden down in its place, Like the treading down of a strawheap in the water of a dunghill;

11 Should he spread forth his hands in the midst thereof, As a swimmer spreadeth forth to swim Then would be laid low his pride, together with the devices of his hands.

12 Yea the lofty stronghold of thy walls Hath he brought down—Laid low—Levelled to the ground, even unto the dust.