The word about Tyre
The burden of Tyre. Wail, you ships of Tarshish, because it is laid waste — no house, no entering in. From the land of Chittim it is revealed to them. Be still, you people of the isle, whom the merchants of Zidon, crossing the sea, have filled. By great waters came the seed of Sihor; the harvest of the river was her revenue, and she was a marketplace of nations. Be ashamed, O Zidon, because the sea has spoken, even the strength of the sea: ‘I haven't laboured or brought forth children; I haven't nourished young men or brought up virgins.’ When word reaches Egypt, they'll be shaken at the news about Tyre. Cross over to Tarshish. Wail, you people of the coast. Is this your rowdy city, whose beginnings go back to the old days, whose feet carried her to settle far off? Who decided this against Tyre, the city that handed out crowns, whose traders were princes and whose merchants were the honoured of the earth? The LORD Almighty decided it, to stain the pride of all her splendour and bring down everyone the earth thinks highly of. Pass through your land as a river, O daughter of Tarshish. There is no more strength. He stretched his hand out over the sea and shook the kingdoms. The LORD has given an order about Canaan, to pull down her strongholds. And he said, ‘You will rejoice no more, O oppressed virgin, daughter of Zidon. Rise, cross over to Chittim; even there you will have no rest.’ Look at the land of the Chaldeans. This people did not exist until the Assyrian founded it for those who live in the wilderness. They set up its towers, raised its palaces, and brought it to ruin. Wail, you ships of Tarshish, because your stronghold is destroyed. And on that day Tyre will be forgotten for seventy years, the length of one king's life. After seventy years it'll go for Tyre the way the song about the prostitute goes: Take a harp and go around the city, you forgotten prostitute. Play well and sing plenty of songs, so people remember you. And after seventy years the LORD will take up Tyre's case, and she'll go back to her earnings and sell herself to all the kingdoms of the world on the face of the earth. But her trade and her earnings will be set apart for the LORD. It won't be stored up or hoarded. Her trade will go to those who live before the LORD, for much food and beautiful garments.
The word about Tyre. Wail, you ships of Tarshish, because it's wrecked — no house left, no harbour to come into. Word reached them from the land of Cyprus. Go quiet, you people of the coast. The merchants of Sidon crossing the sea have filled you up. Over the wide waters came the grain of the Shihor, the harvest of the Nile was her income, and she was the marketplace of the nations. Be ashamed, Sidon, because the sea has spoken — the stronghold of the sea says: I've never been in labour and never given birth. I've never raised young men or brought up young women. When word reaches Egypt, they'll be shaken at the news about Tyre. Cross over to Tarshish. Wail, you people of the coast. Is this your rowdy city, whose beginnings go back to the old days, whose feet carried her to settle far off? Who decided this against Tyre, the city that handed out crowns, whose traders were princes and whose merchants were the honoured of the earth? The Lord Almighty decided it, to stain the pride of all her splendour and bring down everyone the earth thinks highly of. Go through your land like the Nile, daughter of Tarshish. There's no harbour holding you back any more. He stretched his hand out over the sea and shook the kingdoms. The Lord has given an order about Canaan, to pull down her strongholds. And he said: You won't be celebrating any more, you crushed daughter of Sidon. Get up and cross over to Cyprus — even there you'll get no rest. Look at the land of the Chaldeans — this is the people that wasn't. Assyria set it up for desert creatures. They raised their siege towers, they stripped her palaces bare, they made her a ruin. Wail, you ships of Tarshish, because your stronghold is wrecked. And on that day Tyre will be forgotten for seventy years, the length of one king's life. After seventy years it'll go for Tyre the way the song about the prostitute goes: Take a harp, go round the town, you forgotten prostitute. Play it well, sing plenty of songs, so somebody remembers you. And after seventy years the Lord will take up Tyre's case, and she'll go back to her earnings and sell herself to all the kingdoms of the world on the face of the earth. But her trade and her earnings will be set apart for the Lord. It won't be stored up or hoarded. Her trade will go to those who live in front of the Lord, for plenty of food and good clothes.
The burden of Tyre. Howl, ye ships of Tarshish; for it is laid waste, so that there is no house, no entering in: from the land of Chittim it is revealed to them. Be still, ye inhabitants of the isle; thou whom the merchants of Zidon, that pass over the sea, have replenished. And by great waters the seed of Sihor, the harvest of the river, is her revenue; and she is a mart of nations. Be thou ashamed, O Zidon: for the sea hath spoken, even the strength of the sea, saying, I travail not, nor bring forth children, neither do I nourish up young men, nor bring up virgins. As at the report concerning Egypt, so shall they be sorely pained at the report of Tyre. Pass ye over to Tarshish; howl, ye inhabitants of the isle. Is this your joyous city, whose antiquity is of ancient days? her own feet shall carry her afar off to sojourn. Who hath taken this counsel against Tyre, the crowning city, whose merchants are princes, whose traffickers are the honourable of the earth? The LORD of hosts hath purposed it, to stain the pride of all glory, and to bring into contempt all the honourable of the earth. Pass through thy land as a river, O daughter of Tarshish: there is no more strength. He stretched out his hand over the sea, he shook the kingdoms: the LORD hath given a commandment against the merchant city, to destroy the strong holds thereof. And he said, Thou shalt no more rejoice, O thou oppressed virgin, daughter of Zidon: arise, pass over to Chittim; there also shalt thou have no rest. Behold the land of the Chaldeans; this people was not, till the Assyrian founded it for them that dwell in the wilderness: they set up the towers thereof, they raised up the palaces thereof; and he brought it to ruin. Howl, ye ships of Tarshish: for your strength is laid waste. And it shall come to pass in that day, that Tyre shall be forgotten seventy years, according to the days of one king: after the end of seventy years shall Tyre sing as an harlot. Take an harp, go about the city, thou harlot that hast been forgotten; make sweet melody, sing many songs, that thou mayest be remembered. And it shall come to pass after the end of seventy years, that the LORD will visit Tyre, and she shall turn to her hire, and shall commit fornication with all the kingdoms of the world upon the face of the earth. And her merchandise and her hire shall be holiness to the LORD: it shall not be treasured nor laid up; for her merchandise shall be for them that dwell before the LORD, to eat sufficiently, and for durable clothing.
The burden of Tyre. Wail, you ships of Tarshish, because it is laid waste — no house, no entering in. From the land of Chittim it is revealed to them.
The word about Tyre. Wail, you ships of Tarshish, because it's wrecked — no house left, no harbour to come into. Word reached them from the land of Cyprus.
The burden of Tyre. Howl, ye ships of Tarshish; for it is laid waste, so that there is no house, no entering in: from the land of Chittim it is revealed to them.
Be still, you people of the isle, whom the merchants of Zidon, crossing the sea, have filled.
Go quiet, you people of the coast. The merchants of Sidon crossing the sea have filled you up.
Be still, ye inhabitants of the isle; thou whom the merchants of Zidon, that pass over the sea, have replenished.
By great waters came the seed of Sihor; the harvest of the river was her revenue, and she was a marketplace of nations.
Over the wide waters came the grain of the Shihor, the harvest of the Nile was her income, and she was the marketplace of the nations.
And by great waters the seed of Sihor, the harvest of the river, is her revenue; and she is a mart of nations.
Be ashamed, O Zidon, because the sea has spoken, even the strength of the sea: ‘I haven't laboured or brought forth children; I haven't nourished young men or brought up virgins.’
Be ashamed, Sidon, because the sea has spoken — the stronghold of the sea says: I've never been in labour and never given birth. I've never raised young men or brought up young women.
Be thou ashamed, O Zidon: for the sea hath spoken, even the strength of the sea, saying, I travail not, nor bring forth children, neither do I nourish up young men, nor bring up virgins.
When word reaches Egypt, they'll be shaken at the news about Tyre.
As at the report concerning Egypt, so shall they be sorely pained at the report of Tyre.
Cross over to Tarshish. Wail, you people of the coast.
Pass ye over to Tarshish; howl, ye inhabitants of the isle.
Is this your rowdy city, whose beginnings go back to the old days, whose feet carried her to settle far off?
Is this your joyous city, whose antiquity is of ancient days? her own feet shall carry her afar off to sojourn.
Who decided this against Tyre, the city that handed out crowns, whose traders were princes and whose merchants were the honoured of the earth?
Who hath taken this counsel against Tyre, the crowning city, whose merchants are princes, whose traffickers are the honourable of the earth?
The LORD Almighty decided it, to stain the pride of all her splendour and bring down everyone the earth thinks highly of.
The Lord Almighty decided it, to stain the pride of all her splendour and bring down everyone the earth thinks highly of.
The LORD of hosts hath purposed it, to stain the pride of all glory, and to bring into contempt all the honourable of the earth.
Pass through your land as a river, O daughter of Tarshish. There is no more strength.
Go through your land like the Nile, daughter of Tarshish. There's no harbour holding you back any more.
Pass through thy land as a river, O daughter of Tarshish: there is no more strength.
He stretched his hand out over the sea and shook the kingdoms. The LORD has given an order about Canaan, to pull down her strongholds.
He stretched his hand out over the sea and shook the kingdoms. The Lord has given an order about Canaan, to pull down her strongholds.
He stretched out his hand over the sea, he shook the kingdoms: the LORD hath given a commandment against the merchant city, to destroy the strong holds thereof.
And he said, ‘You will rejoice no more, O oppressed virgin, daughter of Zidon. Rise, cross over to Chittim; even there you will have no rest.’
And he said: You won't be celebrating any more, you crushed daughter of Sidon. Get up and cross over to Cyprus — even there you'll get no rest.
And he said, Thou shalt no more rejoice, O thou oppressed virgin, daughter of Zidon: arise, pass over to Chittim; there also shalt thou have no rest.
Look at the land of the Chaldeans. This people did not exist until the Assyrian founded it for those who live in the wilderness. They set up its towers, raised its palaces, and brought it to ruin.
Look at the land of the Chaldeans — this is the people that wasn't. Assyria set it up for desert creatures. They raised their siege towers, they stripped her palaces bare, they made her a ruin.
Behold the land of the Chaldeans; this people was not, till the Assyrian founded it for them that dwell in the wilderness: they set up the towers thereof, they raised up the palaces thereof; and he brought it to ruin.
Wail, you ships of Tarshish, because your stronghold is destroyed.
Wail, you ships of Tarshish, because your stronghold is wrecked.
Howl, ye ships of Tarshish: for your strength is laid waste.
And on that day Tyre will be forgotten for seventy years, the length of one king's life. After seventy years it'll go for Tyre the way the song about the prostitute goes:
And it shall come to pass in that day, that Tyre shall be forgotten seventy years, according to the days of one king: after the end of seventy years shall Tyre sing as an harlot.
Take a harp and go around the city, you forgotten prostitute. Play well and sing plenty of songs, so people remember you.
Take a harp, go round the town, you forgotten prostitute. Play it well, sing plenty of songs, so somebody remembers you.
Take an harp, go about the city, thou harlot that hast been forgotten; make sweet melody, sing many songs, that thou mayest be remembered.
And after seventy years the LORD will take up Tyre's case, and she'll go back to her earnings and sell herself to all the kingdoms of the world on the face of the earth.
And after seventy years the Lord will take up Tyre's case, and she'll go back to her earnings and sell herself to all the kingdoms of the world on the face of the earth.
And it shall come to pass after the end of seventy years, that the LORD will visit Tyre, and she shall turn to her hire, and shall commit fornication with all the kingdoms of the world upon the face of the earth.
But her trade and her earnings will be set apart for the LORD. It won't be stored up or hoarded. Her trade will go to those who live before the LORD, for much food and beautiful garments.
But her trade and her earnings will be set apart for the Lord. It won't be stored up or hoarded. Her trade will go to those who live in front of the Lord, for plenty of food and good clothes.
And her merchandise and her hire shall be holiness to the LORD: it shall not be treasured nor laid up; for her merchandise shall be for them that dwell before the LORD, to eat sufficiently, and for durable clothing.