Call now, if there be any that will answer thee; And to which of the saints wilt thou turn? For wrath killeth the foolish man, And envy slayeth the silly one. I have seen the foolish taking root: But suddenly I cursed his habitation. His children are far from safety, And they are crushed in the gate, Neither is there any to deliver them. Whose harvest the hungry eateth up, And taketh it even out of the thorns, And the robber swalloweth up their substance. Although affliction cometh not forth of the dust, Neither doth trouble spring out of the ground
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