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18 Your shepherds slumber, king of Assyria. Your nobles lie down. Your people are scattered on the mountains, and there is no one to gather them. 19 There is no healing your wound, for your injury is fatal. All who hear the report of you clap their hands over you; for who hasn’t felt your endless cruelty?

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18 Your shepherds are asleep, O Assyrian king;
    your princes lie dead in the dust.
Your people are scattered across the mountains
    with no one to gather them together.
19 There is no healing for your wound;
    your injury is fatal.
All who hear of your destruction
    will clap their hands for joy.
Where can anyone be found
    who has not suffered from your continual cruelty?

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