Up the ascent of Luhith climbers weep, And down the descent from Horonaim, cries of loss and devastation.
Oh, run for your lives! Get out while you can! Survive by your wits in the wild!
You trusted in thick walls and big money, yes? But it won't help you now. Your big god Chemosh will be hauled off, his priests and managers with him.
A wrecker will wreck every city. Not a city will survive. The valley fields will be ruined, the plateau pastures destroyed, just as I told you.
Cover the land of Moab with salt. Make sure nothing ever grows here again. Her towns will all be ghost towns. Nobody will ever live here again.
Sloppy work in God's name is cursed, and cursed all halfhearted use of the sword.
"Moab has always taken it easy - lazy as a dog in the sun, Never had to work for a living, never faced any trouble, Never had to grow up, never once worked up a sweat.
But those days are a thing of the past. I'll put him to work at hard labor. That will wake him up to the world of hard knocks. That will smash his illusions.
Moab will be as ashamed of god Chemosh as Israel was ashamed of her Bethel calf-gods, the calf-gods she thought were so great.
For how long do you think you'll be saying, 'We're tough. We can beat anyone anywhere'?
The destruction of Moab has already begun. Her choice young soldiers are lying dead right now." The King's Decree - his full name, God-of-the-Angel-Armies.