The Lord said to me,
"Mortal man, sing a funeral song for Tyre,
that city which stands at the edge of the sea and does business with the people living on every seacoast. Tell her what the Sovereign Lord is saying: "Tyre, you boasted of your perfect beauty.
Your home is the sea. Your builders made you like a beautiful ship;
They used fir trees from Mount Hermon for timber And a cedar from Lebanon for your mast.
They took oak trees from Bashan to make oars; They made your deck out of pine from Cyprus And inlaid it with ivory.