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Who doth not fear Thee, king of the nations? For to Thee it is becoming, For among all the wise of the nations, And in all their kingdom there is none like Thee.

And in one they are brutish and foolish, An instruction of vanities [is] the tree itself.

Spread-out silver from Tarshish is brought, And gold from Uphaz, Work of an artizan, and of the hands of a refiner, Blue and purple [is] their clothing, Work of the skilful -- all of them.

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