My son! if thou hast been surety for thy friend, Hast stricken for a stranger thy hand,
Hast been snared with sayings of thy mouth, Hast been captured with sayings of thy mouth,
Do this now, my son, and be delivered, For thou hast come into the hand of thy friend. Go, trample on thyself, and strengthen thy friend,
Give not sleep to thine eyes, And slumber to thine eyelids,
Be delivered as a roe from the hand, And as a bird from the hand of a fowler.
Go unto the ant, O slothful one, See her ways and be wise;
Which hath not captain, overseer, and ruler,
She doth prepare in summer her bread, She hath gathered in harvest her food.
Till when, O slothful one, dost thou lie? When dost thou arise from thy sleep?
A little sleep, a little slumber, A little clasping of the hands to rest,
And thy poverty hath come as a traveller, And thy want as an armed man.
A man of worthlessness, a man of iniquity, Walking [with] perverseness of mouth,
Winking with his eyes, speaking with his feet, Directing with his fingers,
Frowardness [is] in his heart, devising evil at all times, Contentions he sendeth forth.
Therefore suddenly cometh his calamity, Instantly he is broken -- and no healing.
These six hath Jehovah hated, Yea, seven [are] abominations to His soul.
Eyes high -- tongues false -- And hands shedding innocent blood --
A heart devising thoughts of vanity -- Feet hasting to run to evil --
A false witness [who] doth breathe out lies -- And one sending forth contentions between brethren.