A. 19 My bowels, my bowels!
B. I am pained at my very heart;
B’. my heart maketh a noise in me;
A”. I cannot hold my peace,
A. because thou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.
B. 20 Destruction upon destruction is cried; for the whole land is spoiled:
B’. suddenly are my tents spoiled, and my curtains in a moment.
A’. 21 How long shall I see the standard, and hear the sound of the trumpet?