Bel crouches down; Nebo cowers. Their idols sit on animals, on beasts. The objects you once carried about are now borne as burdens by the weary animals.
They crouch down and cower together. They aren't able to rescue the burden, but they themselves go into captivity.
Listen to me, house of Jacob, all that remains from the house of Israel who have been borne by me since pregnancy, whom I carried from the womb
until you grow old. I am the one, and until you turn gray I will support you. I have done it, and I will continue to bear it; I will support and I will rescue.
To whom will you liken me and count me equal and compare me so that we are alike?
Those who pour out gold from a bag and weigh silver with a balance hire a metalworker; then he makes a god. They bow down; they worship;
they carry the idola on their shoulders and support it; they set it down, and it stands still, unable to move from its place. If one cries out to it, it doesn't answer. It can't save people from their distress.