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Go on do his sucklings, And his beauty is as an olive, And he hath fragrance as Lebanon.

Return do the dwellers under his shadow, They revive [as] corn, and flourish as a vine, His memorial [is] as wine of Lebanon.

O Ephraim, what to Me any more with idols? I -- I afflicted, and I cause him to sing: `I [am] as a green fir-tree,' From Me is thy fruit found.

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