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13 Over the ground of my people thorn -- brier goeth up, Surely over all houses of joy of the exulting city,

14 Surely the palace hath been left, The multitude of the city forsaken, Fort and watch-tower hath been for dens unto the age, A joy of wild asses -- a pasture of herds;

15 Till emptied out on us is the Spirit from on high, And a wilderness hath become a fruitful field, And the fruitful field for a forest is reckoned.

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13 and for the land of my people,
    a land overgrown with thorns and briers(A)
yes, mourn(B) for all houses of merriment
    and for this city of revelry.(C)
14 The fortress(D) will be abandoned,
    the noisy city deserted;(E)
citadel and watchtower(F) will become a wasteland forever,
    the delight of donkeys,(G) a pasture for flocks,(H)
15 till the Spirit(I) is poured on us from on high,
    and the desert becomes a fertile field,(J)
    and the fertile field seems like a forest.(K)

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