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18 Thy way and thy doings have procured these [things] unto thee; this is thy wickedness, yea, it is bitter, yea, it reacheth unto thy heart.

19 My bowels! my bowels! I am in travail! [Oh,] the walls of my heart! My heart maketh a noise in me; I cannot hold my peace: for thou hearest, my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the clamour of war.

20 Destruction upon destruction is proclaimed; for the whole land is wasted: suddenly are my tents laid waste, my curtains, in a moment.

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