Before him all the nations are like nothing. He regards them as less than nothing.
With whom, then, will you compare God? By what standard will you evaluate him?
An image made by a craftsman, which a goldsmith overlays with gold, for which he then casts silver chains?
A man too poor to afford an offering chooses a piece of wood that won't rot, then seeks out a skilled artisan to prepare an image that won't fall over.
Don't you know? Don't you hear? Haven't you been told from the start? Don't you understand how the earth is set up?
He who sits above the circle of the earth - for whom its inhabitants appear like grasshoppers - stretches out the heavens like a curtain, spreads them out like a tent to live in.
He reduces princes to nothing, the rulers of the earth to emptiness.
Scarcely are they planted, scarcely sown, scarcely their stem taken root in the ground, when he blows on them, they dry up, and the whirlwind carries them off like straw.
"With whom, then, will you compare me? With whom am I equal?" asks the Holy One.
Turn your eyes to the heavens! See who created these? He brings out the army of them in sequence, summoning each by name. Through his great might and his massive strength, not one of them is missing.
Why do you complain, Ya'akov; why do you say, Isra'el, "My way is hidden from ADONAI, my rights are ignored by my God"?