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The sword slashes in their cities,
    consumes their oracle-priests,
    and devours because of their own counsels.
My people are bent on backsliding from Me.
    Though they called to the Most High,
    none at all exalt Him.

How can I give you up, Ephraim?
    How can I hand you over, Israel?
How can I make you like Admah?
    How can I treat you like Zeboyim?
My heart churns within Me;
    My compassion is stirred.

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