O my God, make them like dead thistles, ¹  like dead weeds blown away by ²  the wind!

It will produce thorns and thistles for you, but you will eat the grain ¹  of the field.

Though these people make an uproar as loud as the roaring of powerful waves, ¹  when he shouts at ²  them, they will flee to a distant land, driven before the wind like dead weeds on the hills, or like dead thistles ³  before a strong gale.

The high places of the “House ¹  of Wickedness” ²  will be destroyed; it is the place where Israel sins. Thorns and thistles will grow up over its altars. Then they will say to the mountains, “Cover us!” and to the hills, “Fall on us!”