The storm is coming -
Rain about to fall.
But the people look down
To check the weather
In the day of his wrath.
When the lighting strikes,
They go to the high places
And stand proudly, tall,
To hear the words of broker gods,
Lender lords and money masters,
In the day of his wrath.
When the plates break down
And the mountains move,
They despair and call out -
They call out to their night watches,
“Brother, please help me recover
From this day of wrath!”
But the silver, though it shines
Bright as the stars,
Though it speaks
In the language of all men,
Doesn’t deliver them.
And the gold, pressed thin
Into layer
Upon layer,
Shields the fine glass, melted sand,
But never saves them.
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Ezekiel 7:19–22
They cast their silver into the streets, and their gold is like an unclean thing. Their silver and gold are not able to deliver them in the day of the wrath of the LORD. They cannot satisfy their hunger or fill their stomachs with it. For it was the stumbling block of their iniquity. His beautiful ornament they used for pride, and they made their abominable images and their detestable things of it. Therefore I make it an unclean thing to them. And I will give it into the hands of foreigners for prey, and to the wicked of the earth for spoil, and they shall profane it. I will turn my face from them, and they shall profane my treasured place. Robbers shall enter and profane it. (ESV)
