Nahum 3

¹ Woe to the city of blood, full of lies, full of plunder, never without prey. ² The crack of the whip, the rumble of the wheel, galloping horse and bounding chariot! ³ Charging horseman, flashing sword, shining spear; heaps of slain, mounds of corpses, dead bodies without end— they stumble over their dead— ⁴ because of the many harlotries of the harlot, the seductive mistress of sorcery, who betrays nations by her prostitution and clans by her witchcraft. ⁵ “Behold, I am against you,” declares the LORD of Hosts. “I will lift your skirts over your face. I will show your nakedness to the nations and your shame to the kingdoms. ⁶ I will pelt you with filth and treat you with contempt; I will make a spectacle of you. ⁷ Then all who see you will recoil from you and say, ‘Nineveh is devastated; who will grieve for her?’ Where can I find comforters for you?” ⁸ Are you better than Thebes, stationed by the Nile with water around her, whose rampart was the sea, whose wall was the water? ⁹ Cush and Egypt were her boundless strength; Put and Libya were her allies. ¹⁰ Yet she became an exile; she went into captivity. Her infants were dashed to pieces at the head of every street. They cast lots for her dignitaries, and all her nobles were bound in chains. ¹¹ You too will become drunk; you will go into hiding and seek refuge from the enemy. ¹² All your fortresses are fig trees with the first ripe figs; when shaken, they fall into the mouth of the eater! ¹³ Look at your troops— they are like your women! The gates of your land are wide open to your enemies; fire consumes their bars. ¹⁴ Draw your water for the siege; strengthen your fortresses. Work the clay and tread the mortar; repair the brick kiln! ¹⁵ There the fire will devour you; the sword will cut you down and consume you like a young locust. Make yourself many like the young locust; make yourself many like the swarming locust! ¹⁶ You have multiplied your merchants more than the stars of the sky. The young locust strips the land and flies away. ¹⁷ Your guards are like the swarming locust, and your scribes like clouds of locusts that settle on the walls on a cold day. When the sun rises, they fly away, and no one knows where. ¹⁸ O king of Assyria, your shepherds slumber; your officers sleep. Your people are scattered on the mountains with no one to gather them. ¹⁹ There is no healing for your injury; your wound is severe. All who hear the news of you applaud your downfall, for who has not experienced your constant cruelty?