Isaiah 32:9,11 - Compare All Versions

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You women who are so complacent, rise up and listen to me; you daughters who feel secure, hear what I have to say!

Tremble, you complacent women; shudder, you daughters who feel secure! Strip off your fine clothes and wrap yourselves in rags.

Rise up, you women who are at ease, hear my voice; you complacent daughters, give ear to my speech.

Tremble, you women who are at ease, shudder, you complacent ones; strip, and make yourselves bare, and tie sackcloth around your waist.

Listen, you women who lie around in ease. Listen to me, you who are so smug.

Tremble, you women of ease; throw off your complacency. Strip off your pretty clothes, and put on burlap to show your grief.

Stand up, you complacent women;  listen to me. Pay attention to what I say, you overconfident daughters.

Shudder, you complacent ones; tremble, you overconfident ones! Strip yourselves bare  and put sackcloth around your waists.

Rise up, ye women that are at ease; hear my voice, ye careless daughters; give ear unto my speech.

Tremble, ye women that are at ease; be troubled, ye careless ones: strip you, and make you bare, and gird sackcloth upon your loins.

Rise up, you women who are at ease, Hear my voice; You complacent daughters, Give ear to my speech.

Tremble, you women who are at ease; Be troubled, you complacent ones; Strip yourselves, make yourselves bare, And gird sackcloth on your waists.

Take your stand, idle women! Listen to me! Indulgent, idle women, listen closely to what I have to say. In just a little over a year from now, you’ll be shaken out of your lazy lives. The grape harvest will fail, and there’ll be no fruit on the trees. Oh tremble, you idle women. Get serious, you pampered dolls! Strip down and discard your silk fineries. Put on funeral clothes. Shed honest tears for the lost harvest, the failed vintage. Weep for my people’s gardens and farms that grow nothing but thistles and thornbushes. Cry tears, real tears, for the happy homes no longer happy, the merry city no longer merry. The royal palace is deserted, the bustling city quiet as a morgue, The emptied parks and playgrounds taken over by wild animals, delighted with their new home.

Take your stand, idle women! Listen to me! Indulgent, idle women, listen closely to what I have to say. In just a little over a year from now, you’ll be shaken out of your lazy lives. The grape harvest will fail, and there’ll be no fruit on the trees. Oh tremble, you idle women. Get serious, you pampered dolls! Strip down and discard your silk fineries. Put on funeral clothes. Shed honest tears for the lost harvest, the failed vintage. Weep for my people’s gardens and farms that grow nothing but thistles and thornbushes. Cry tears, real tears, for the happy homes no longer happy, the merry city no longer merry. The royal palace is deserted, the bustling city quiet as a morgue, The emptied parks and playgrounds taken over by wild animals, delighted with their new home.

¶Rise up, you women who are at ease, And hear my voice; Listen to my word, You complacent daughters.

Tremble, you women who are at ease; Be troubled, you complacent daughters; Strip, undress, and put sackcloth on your waist

¶Rise up, you women who are carefree, And hear my voice, You confident and unsuspecting daughters! Listen to what I am saying.

Tremble, you women who are carefree; Tremble with fear, you complacent ones! Strip, undress and wear sackcloth on your waist [in grief]

You complacent women, get up and listen to me! You carefree daughters, pay attention to what I say!

Tremble, you complacent ones! Shake with fear, you carefree ones! Strip off your clothes and expose yourselves – put sackcloth on your waist!