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Thou hast multiplied the nation, Thou hast made great its joy, They have joyed before Thee as the joy in harvest, As [men] rejoice in their apportioning spoil.

Because the yoke of its burden, And the staff of its shoulder, the rod of its exactor, Thou hast broken as [in] the day of Midian.

For every battle of a warrior [is] with rushing, and raiment rolled in blood, And it hath been for burning -- fuel of fire.

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