Ezekiel 27:1-9, 26-32

GOD’s Message came to me: “You, son of man, raise a funeral song over Tyre. Tell Tyre, gateway to the sea, merchant to the world, trader among the far-off islands, ‘This is what GOD, the Master, says: “‘You boast, Tyre: “I’m the perfect ship—stately, handsome.” You ruled the high seas from a real beauty, crafted to perfection. Your planking came from Mount Hermon junipers. A Lebanon cedar supplied your mast. They made your oars from sturdy Bashan oaks. Cypress from Cyprus inlaid with ivory was used for the decks. Your sail and flag were of colorful embroidered linen from Egypt. Your purple deck awnings also came from Cyprus. Men of Sidon and Arvad pulled the oars. Your seasoned seamen, O Tyre, were the crew. Ship’s carpenters were old salts from Byblos. All the ships of the sea and their sailors clustered around you to barter for your goods.

“‘Your sailors row mightily, taking you into the high seas. Then a storm out of the east shatters your ship in the ocean deep. Everything sinks—your rich goods and products, sailors and crew, ship’s carpenters and soldiers, Sink to the bottom of the sea. Total shipwreck. The cries of your sailors reverberate on shore. Sailors everywhere abandon ship. Veteran seamen swim for dry land. They cry out in grief, a choir of bitter lament over you. They smear their faces with ashes, shave their heads, Wear rough burlap, wildly keening their loss. They raise their funeral song: “Who on the high seas is like Tyre!”