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42 Lo, My servant, I take hold on him, My chosen one -- My soul hath accepted, I have put My Spirit upon him, Judgment to nations he bringeth forth.

He doth not cry, nor lift up, Nor cause his voice to be heard, in the street.

A bruised reed he breaketh not, And dim flax he quencheth not, To truth he bringeth forth judgment.

He doth not become weak nor bruised, Till he setteth judgment in the earth, And for his law isles wait with hope.

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