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1 Woe to me, for I have become like the gathering of the summer fruit, like the gleanings of the vintage; there is no cluster to eat, no early fig my soul desires. 2 The godly one has perished from the earth, and there is no one upright among mankind. They all lie in wait for blood, each man against his brother, they hunt with a net. 3 Upon the evil are both hands to do it well; the prince is asking—and the judge—for a bribe, and the great one is speaking the desire of his soul, and they wrap it up. Micah 7:1-3, Berean Literal Bible. Public domain.
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