If I have denied what the poor wanted, made a widow's eyes tired,
eaten my morsel alone, and not shared any with an orphan
(for from my youth I raised the orphan as a father, and from my mother's womb I led the widow);
if I ever saw someone dying without clothes, the needy naked;
if they haven't blessed me fervently, or if they weren't warmed by the wool from my sheep;
if I have lifted my hand against the orphans, when I saw that I had help in the city gate—
may my arm fall from my shoulder, my forearm be broken at the elbow—
for God's calamity is terror to me; I couldn't endure his splendor.