Add parallel Print Page Options

Assyria can’t save us.
    We won’t ride on horses;
    neither will we say any more to the work of our hands, ‘Our gods!’
    for in you the fatherless finds mercy.”

“I will heal their waywardness.
    I will love them freely;
    for my anger is turned away from him.
I will be like the dew to Israel.
    He will blossom like the lily,
    and send down his roots like Lebanon.

Read full chapter