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19 My bowels, my bowels!
I am pained at my very heart;
my heart maketh a noise in me;
I cannot hold my peace, because thou hast heard, O my soul,
the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.
20 Destruction upon destruction is cried;
for the whole land is spoiled:
suddenly are my tents spoiled,
and my curtains in a moment.
21 How long shall I see the standard,
and hear the sound of the trumpet?

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