³ Asshur doth not save us, on a horse we ride not, Nor do we say any more, Our God, to the work of our hands, For in Thee find mercy doth the fatherless.'

⁴ I heal their backsliding, I love them freely, For turned back hath Mine anger from him.

⁵ I am as dew to Israel, he flourisheth as a lily, And he striketh forth his roots as Lebanon.