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My heart shall cry out for Moab; his fugitives shall go up with weeping by the hill of Luhith unto Zoar, a heifer of three years; for in the way of Horonaim they shall raise up a cry of destruction.

¶ For the waters of Nimrim have run out: for the grass of the courtyard is withered away, the herb fails, there is no green thing.

Therefore that which each one has laid up and their riches they shall carry away to the brook of the willows.

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