Verse 10
It is sharpened to make a sore slaughter; it is furbished that it may glitter: should we then make mirth? it contemneth the rod of my son, as every tree.
Of my son — To whom God saith, Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron, Psalm 2:9. This sword is that rod of iron, which despiseth every tree, and will bear it down.
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