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18 For suddenly I’ll fling you from this land and pour great troubles down; at last you shall feel my wrath.

19 Desperate is my wound. My grief is great. My sickness is incurable, but I must bear it. 20 My home is gone; my children have been taken away, and I will never see them again. There is no one left to help me rebuild my home.

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18 For this is what the Lord says:
    “At this time I will hurl(A) out
    those who live in this land;
I will bring distress(B) on them
    so that they may be captured.”

19 Woe to me because of my injury!
    My wound(C) is incurable!
Yet I said to myself,
    “This is my sickness, and I must endure(D) it.”
20 My tent(E) is destroyed;
    all its ropes are snapped.
My children are gone from me and are no more;(F)
    no one is left now to pitch my tent
    or to set up my shelter.

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