Land of Whirring Wings
Envoys race by papyrus boat from a distant, feared nation, but our Father says he will simply be still and watch, like heat in sunlight, until the moment before harvest — then prune the shoots away. Afterward that same people carries gifts to Mount Zion themselves.
18 1Ah, land of whirring wings, beyond the rivers of Cush, 2who sends ambassadors by the sea, in vessels of papyrus across the waters. Go, swift messengers, to a nation tall and smooth-skinned, to a people feared near and far, a nation mighty and trampling down, whose land the rivers divide. 3All you inhabitants of the world, you who dwell on the earth: when a banner is raised on the mountains, look! When a trumpet sounds, listen!
4For this is what our Father said to me: I will be still, and I will look on from my dwelling place, like clear heat in the sunlight, like a cloud of dew in the heat of harvest.
5For before the harvest, when the blossom is over and the bud becomes a ripening grape, our Father will cut off the shoots with pruning knives, and the spreading branches he will take away and lop off. 6They will all be left for the birds of prey of the mountains and for the beasts of the earth. The birds of prey will summer on them, and all the beasts of the earth will winter on them. 7At that time gifts will be brought to the Father of heaven's armies, from a people tall and smooth-skinned, from a people feared near and far, a nation mighty and trampling down, whose land the rivers divide—to the place of the name of the Father of heaven's armies, Mount Zion.
