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On a bare hill raise a signal,
    cry aloud to them;
wave the hand for them to enter
    the gates of the nobles.
I myself have commanded my consecrated ones,
    have summoned my mighty men to execute my anger,
    my proudly exulting ones.

Hark, a tumult on the mountains
    as of a great multitude!
Hark, an uproar of kingdoms,
    of nations gathering together!
The Lord of hosts is mustering
    a host for battle.

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