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    Like a farmer, I will use my winnowing fork to remove the chaff at the city gates.
        I will deprive them of their children.
    I will destroy My own because they refuse to turn away
        from their wicked and hurtful ways.
    The widows in this land will outnumber the grains of sand by the sea.
        As for the mothers of young men,
    I will send the destroyer against them at midday, when no one is expecting.
        In the blink of an eye, I will rain down terror and anguish on them.
    The mother of seven suffers in her sadness;
        gasping for breath, she realizes the sun has set even while it is day.
    Alone and childless again, she is disgraced and ashamed.
        As for those who survive the first wave of violence,
    I will put them to the sword before their enemies.

So says the Eternal.

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