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17 Your courtiers are like locusts. Your field marshals are like swarming locusts! They camp in the walls on a cold day. Yet when the sun rises, they fly away, and no one knows where they are.

18 King of Assyria, your shepherds are drowsy! Your powerful men slumber! Your people are scattered on the mountains, and there are none left to gather together.[a]

19 There is no healing for your wound. Your injury is fatal! All who hear what has happened to you will clap their hands for joy, for no one ever escaped your endless cruelty!

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Footnotes

  1. Nahum 3:18 Or there is no one to gather them back