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Of those who say, “With our words we will win;
    our lips are our own. Who is the master of our souls?”

“I will rise up,” says the Eternal,
    “because the poor are being trampled, and the needy groan for My saving help.
    I will lift them up to the safety they long for.”
The promises of the Eternal, they are true, they are pure—
    like silver refined in a furnace,
    purified seven times, they will be without impurity.

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