King James Version › Isaiah › 23

Isaiah

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1 The bur­den of Tyre. Howl, ye ships of Tarshish; for it is laid waste, so that there is no house, no en­ter­ing in: from the land of Chit­tim it is re­vealed to them. 2 Be still, ye in­hab­i­tants of the isle; thou whom the mer­chants of Zi­don, that pass over the sea, have re­plen­ished. 3 And by great wa­ters the seed of Si­hor, the har­vest of the riv­er, is her rev­enue; and she is a mart of na­tions. 4 Be thou ashamed, O Zi­don: for the sea hath spo­ken, even the strength of the sea, say­ing, I tra­vail not, nor bring forth chil­dren, nei­ther do I nour­ish up young men, nor bring up vir­gins. 5 As at the re­port con­cern­ing Egypt, so shall they be sore­ly pained at the re­port of Tyre. 6 Pass ye over to Tarshish; howl, ye in­hab­i­tants of the isle. 7 Is this your joy­ous city, whose an­tiq­ui­ty is of an­cient days? her own feet shall car­ry her afar off to so­journ. 8 Who hath tak­en this coun­sel against Tyre, the crown­ing city, whose mer­chants are princes, whose traf­fick­ers are the hon­ourable of the earth? 9 The LORD of hosts hath pur­posed it, to stain the pride of all glo­ry, and to bring into con­tempt all the hon­ourable of the earth. 10 Pass through thy land as a riv­er, O daugh­ter of Tarshish: there is no more strength. 11 He stretched out his hand over the sea, he shook the king­doms: the LORD hath giv­en a com­mand­ment against the mer­chant city, to de­stroy the strong holds there­of. 12 And he said, Thou shalt no more re­joice, O thou op­pressed vir­gin, daugh­ter of Zi­don: arise, pass over to Chit­tim; there also shalt thou have no rest. 13 Be­hold the land of the Chaldeans; this peo­ple was not, till the As­syr­i­an found­ed it for them that dwell in the wilder­ness: they set up the tow­ers there­of, they raised up the palaces there­of; and he brought it to ru­in. 14 Howl, ye ships of Tarshish: for your strength is laid waste. 15 And it shall come to pass in that day, that Tyre shall be for­got­ten sev­en­ty years, ac­cord­ing to the days of one king: af­ter the end of sev­en­ty years shall Tyre sing as an har­lot. 16 Take an harp, go about the city, thou har­lot that hast been for­got­ten; make sweet melody, sing many songs, that thou mayest be re­mem­bered. 17 And it shall come to pass af­ter the end of sev­en­ty years, that the LORD will vis­it Tyre, and she shall turn to her hire, and shall com­mit for­ni­ca­tion with all the king­doms of the world upon the face of the earth. 18 And her mer­chan­dise and her hire shall be ho­li­ness to the LORD: it shall not be trea­sured nor laid up; for her mer­chan­dise shall be for them that dwell be­fore the LORD, to eat suf­fi­cient­ly, and for durable cloth­ing.