6 Go unto the ant, O slothful one, See her ways and be wise;

7 Which hath not captain, overseer, and ruler,

8 She doth prepare in summer her bread, She hath gathered in harvest her food.

9 Till when, O slothful one, dost thou lie? When dost thou arise from thy sleep?

10 A little sleep, a little slumber, A little clasping of the hands to rest,

11 And thy poverty hath come as a traveller, And thy want as an armed man.