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In the rags-sack of the false hairy garment. The self-created measure comes measured, yes word for word, to the self-appointed, false prophet. This while a stupid volk eat themselves full with the word of false seers.

So where to, where to with a volk alienated from her God? Where to, where to with a volk with hearts fossilized into stone? So, just look at the dark clouds roaring without promise and look at the hopeful harvest, without Godly blessing.

See the mothers weeping without tears, while the fathers gnash and complain over a failed war. See the devastated rubbish heap cities of steel and broken concrete and stone. Look and see the dry, dead, scorched land. Once it was fruitful ground and peat.

So, where to now with a rejected volk, so alone? Yes, where to with a volk alienated from her God? From your politics and churches you, oh Boer volk, has accepted the big lie inside you as the truth. From your weak midst you now want to take a leader for yourself. Yes, a leader who will cause death to rain down onto your already-so-thinned-out volk.

Each one that will die in the city, Raca’s stray dogs will eat their carcasses. They whose lives will be taken from them in the veld or on the farm, the wild jackal and the birds will eat their corpses with greed. So, woe to the day of the many false prophets. Look, their self-created word is now measured out to them, word for word, in fulfillment.

Therefore let Word and Truth therefore now come and speak for Himself. Yes, because the Word of the true Wisdom is hit, deep and painfully, like nails, into the disobedient, haughty flesh. Yes, in the hairy sack of the false, hairy garment, the false witnesses come, bringing grief and bitter sorrow to many.