Isaiah 14:11-23

This is where your pomp and fine music led you, Babylon, to your underworld private chambers, A king-size mattress of maggots for repose and a quilt of crawling worms for warmth. What a comedown this, O Babylon! Daystar! Son of Dawn! Flat on your face in the underworld mud, you, famous for flattening nations! You said to yourself, “I’ll climb to heaven. I’ll set my throne over the stars of God. I’ll run the assembly of angels that meets on sacred Mount Zaphon. I’ll climb to the top of the clouds. I’ll take over as King of the Universe!” But you didn’t make it, did you? Instead of climbing up, you came down— Down with the underground dead, down to the abyss of the Pit. People will stare and muse: “Can this be the one Who terrorized earth and its kingdoms, turned earth to a moonscape, Wasted its cities, shut up his prisoners to a living death?” Other kings get a decent burial, honored with eulogies and placed in a tomb. But you’re dumped in a ditch unburied, like a stray dog or cat, Covered with rotting bodies, murdered and indigent corpses. Your dead body desecrated, mutilated— no state funeral for you! You’ve left your land in ruins, left a legacy of massacre. The progeny of your evil life will never be named. Oblivion! Get a place ready to slaughter the sons of the wicked and wipe out their father’s line. Unthinkable that they should own a square foot of land or desecrate the face of the world with their cities! “I will confront them”—Decree of GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies—“and strip Babylon of name and survivors, children and grandchildren.” GOD’s Decree. “I’ll make it a worthless swamp and give it as a prize to the hedgehog. And then I’ll bulldoze it out of existence.” Decree of GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies.