The grass withers, the flower fades,
Because the breath of the Lord blows upon it;
Surely the people are grass.

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24 Scarcely shall they be planted,
Scarcely shall they be sown,
Scarcely shall their stock take root in the earth,
When He will also blow on them,
And they will wither,
And the whirlwind will take them away like stubble.

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