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All ye inhabitants of the world, And ye dwellers of earth, At the lifting up of an ensign on hills ye look, And at the blowing of a trumpet ye hear.

For thus said Jehovah unto me, `I rest, and I look on My settled place, As a clear heat on an herb. As a thick cloud of dew in the heat of harvest.

For before harvest, when the flower is perfect, And the blossom is producing unripe fruit, Then hath [one] cut the sprigs with pruning hooks, And the branches he hath turned aside, cut down.

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