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And the mirage hath become a pond, And the thirsty land fountains of waters, In the habitation of dragons, Its place of couching down, a court for reed and rush.

And a highway hath been there, and a way, And the `way of holiness' is called to it, Not pass over it doth the unclean, And He Himself [is] by them, Whoso is going in the way -- even fools err not.

No lion is there, yea, a destructive beast Ascendeth it not, it is not found there, And walked have the redeemed,

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