Isaiah.
Chapter 47.
Come down, and sit in the dust, O virgin, daughter of Babylon! Sit on the ground without a throne, O daughter of the Chaldaeans! For thou shalt no longer be called the tender and delicate! 
Take the mill-stones and grind meal; Raise thy veil, lift up thy train; Make bare the leg, wade through the streams! 
Thy nakedness shall be uncovered, And thy shame shall be seen. I will take vengeance; I will make peace with none. 
Our Redeemer, Jehovah of hosts is his name, The Holy One of Israel. 
Sit thou in silence; go into darkness, O daughter of the Chaldaeans! For thou shalt no more be called the mistress of kingdoms. 
I was angry with my people; I profaned my inheritance, And gave them into thy hand; Thou didst show them no mercy; Even upon the aged didst thou lay a very grievous yoke. 
Thou saidst, “I shall be mistress forever”; So that thou didst not lay these things to thy heart, Nor consider what would be the end of them. 
But hear thou this, thou that art given to pleasure! That sittest in security, And sayest in thy heart, “I am, and there is none besides me; I shall not be a widow, Nor see myself childless!” 
Behold, both these things shall come upon thee suddenly, in one day, Loss of children, and widowhood; In full measure shall they come upon thee, In spite of thy many sorceries, And the great abundance of thy enchantments. 
Thou didst trust in thy wickedness, and saidst, “No one seeth me”; Thy wisdom and thy knowledge have led thee astray; Thou saidst in thy heart, “I am, and there is none besides me”; 
Therefore shall evil come upon thee, of which thou shalt not know the dawn; And mischief shall fall upon thee, which thou shalt not be able to expiate; Suddenly shall desolation come upon thee, when thou thinkest not of it. 
Persevere now in thy enchantments; In the multitude of thy sorceries, in which thou hast labored from thy youth; Perhaps thou mayst be profited by them! Perhaps thou mayst make thyself feared! 
Art thou wearied with thy many devices? Let them stand up, then, and save thee, The observers of the heavens, the star-gazers, They that prognosticate at every new moon The things that shall come upon thee! 
Behold, they shall be like stubble; the fire shall burn them up; They shall not deliver themselves from the power of the flame; Not a coal shall be left of them to warm one, Nor a spark of fire to sit by. 
Thus shall it be with them with whom thou hast labored; Thus with them with whom thou hast trafficked from thy youth; They shall go every one his own way; None shall help thee. 
