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For yet the vision [is] for a season, And it breatheth for the end, and doth not lie, If it tarry, wait for it, For surely it cometh, it is not late.

Lo, a presumptuous one! Not upright is his soul within him, And the righteous by his stedfastness liveth.

And also, because the wine [is] treacherous, A man is haughty, and remaineth not at home, Who hath enlarged as sheol his soul, And is as death that is not satisfied, And doth gather unto itself all the nations, And doth assemble unto itself all the peoples,

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