Wake up, wake up! Pull on your boots, Zion! Dress up in your Sunday best, Jerusalem, holy city! Those who want no part of God have been culled out. They won't be coming along.
Brush off the dust and get to your feet, captive Jerusalem! Throw off your chains, captive daughter of Zion!
God says, "You were sold for nothing. You're being bought back for nothing."
Again, the Master, God, says, "Early on, my people went to Egypt and lived, strangers in the land. At the other end, Assyria oppressed them.
And now, what have I here?" God's Decree. "My people are hauled off again for no reason at all. Tyrants on the warpath, whooping it up, and day after day, incessantly, my reputation blackened.
Now it's time that my people know who I am, what I'm made of - yes, that I have something to say. Here I am!"
How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger bringing good news, Breaking the news that all's well, proclaiming good times, announcing salvation, telling Zion, "Your God reigns!"