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He grew up before him like a sapling,
    like a shoot in arid ground.
He had no beauty or majesty
    that would cause us to look at him;
    nothing in his appearance would attract us to him.
He was despised and shunned by others,
    a man of sorrows who was no stranger to suffering.
We loathed him and regarded him as of no account,
    as one from whom men avert their gaze.
Although it was our afflictions that he bore,
    our sufferings that he endured,
we thought of him as stricken,
    as struck down by God and afflicted.

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