10 sharpened for the slaughter,

polished to flash like lightning!

“ ‘Shall we rejoice in the scepter of my royal son? The sword despises every such stick.

10 It is sharpened to make a sore slaughter; it is furbished that it may glitter: should we then make mirth? it contemneth the rod of my son, as every tree.

10 It is sharpened for terrible slaughter

and polished to flash like lightning!

Now will you laugh?

Those far stronger than you have fallen beneath its power!

10 Sharpened to make a dreadful slaughter,

Polished to flash like lightning!

Should we then make mirth?

It despises the scepter of My son,

As it does all wood.

10 It is made sharp for the killing.

It is polished to flash like lightning.

“ ‘You are not happy about this horrible punishment by the sword. But my son Judah, you did not change when you were only beaten with a rod.

10 it is sharpened that it may make a slaughter; it is furbished that it may be as lightning: shall we then make mirth? the rod of my son, it contemneth every tree.

10 It is sharpened for sore slaughter, it is furbished that it may glitter. Shall we then make mirth, saying, The sceptre of my son contemneth all wood?

10 It’s sharpened to kill 

and polished to flash like lightning. 

How can we rejoice? 

My son has refused to be disciplined or punished. 

10 It is sharpened for slaughter,

polished to flash like lightning!

Should we rejoice?

The scepter of My son,

the sword despises every tree.

10 it is sharpened for slaughter,

honed to flash like lightning!

How can we make merry?

You have despised the rod,

and all discipline.

10 It is sharpened to slaughter a slaughter, polished to flash like lightning! Or will we rejoice? A rod, my son, is despising every tree.

10 It is sharpened to kill people.

It flashes like lightning.” ’ ”

The people say, “Should we take delight in the rod of the ruler of the Lord’s son Judah? The sword looks down on every stick like that.”

10 ‘Sharpened to make a slaughter,

Polished to flash like lightning!’

Or shall we rejoice, the rod of My son despising every tree?