17 Though the fig-tree doth not flourish, And there is no produce among vines, Failed hath the work of the olive, And fields have not yielded food, Cut off from the fold hath been the flock, And there is no herd in the stalls.

18 Yet I, in Jehovah I exult, I do joy in the God of my salvation.

19 Jehovah the Lord [is] my strength, And He doth make my feet like hinds, And on my high-places causeth me to tread. To the overseer with my stringed instruments!