And now they are tearing down all its engravings with axes and crowbars.

The horses’ hooves pounded the ground; the stallions galloped madly.

Saul’s watchmen at Gibeah in the territory of Benjamin looked on as the crowd of soldiers seemed to melt away first in one direction and then in another.

You will say, “They have struck me, but I am not harmed! They beat me, but I did not know it! When will I awake? I will look for another drink.”

Her left hand reached for the tent peg, her right hand for the workmen’s hammer. She “hammered” Sisera, she shattered his skull, she smashed his head, she drove the tent peg through his temple.

May the godly strike me in love and correct me! May my head not refuse choice oil! Indeed, my prayer is a witness against their evil deeds.

The splendid crown of Ephraim’s drunkards is doomed, the withering flower, its beautiful splendor, situated at the head of a rich valley, the crown of those overcome with wine.

The craftsman encourages the metalsmith, the one who wields the hammer encourages the one who pounds on the anvil. He approves the quality of the welding, and nails it down so it won’t fall over.”

For the fields of Heshbon are dried up, as well as the vines of Sibmah. The rulers of the nations trample all over its vines, which reach Jazer and spread to the desert; their shoots spread out and cross the sea.