When will you work, O lazy man?
Will you wait till evening comes?
When men retire from their labour?
And the day’s wages are being paid?
When will you harvest O slothful soul?
Will you wait till the husks are fully brown?
Till the harvest is overripe?
Until the birds of the air find sweetness in the fruits?
When others would have profited from the sales of harvest?
When will you pray O man of God?
Will you wait for hills to become mountains?
Will you allow small rivers become mighty oceans?
Will you allow evil tares grow and mature?
Will you watch Satan become king in your affairs?
Shake yourself from the dust,
arise; Sit down, O Jerusalem!
Loose yourself from the bonds of your neck, O captive daughter of Zion!
Strengthen the hands which hang down, and your feeble knees
make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated,