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14 Doth snow of Lebanon Cease from the rock of the field? Failed are the cold strange waters that flow?

15 But My people have forgotten Me, to a vain thing they make perfume, And they cause them to stumble in their ways -- paths of old, To walk in paths -- a way not raised up,

16 To make their land become a desolation, A hissing age-during, Every passer by it is astonished, And bemoaneth with his head.

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