O Israel, hearken to me!
Said Jeroboam, the king;
Go not to Zion to bend the knee!
Said the son of Nebat, the king.

A golden Apis I make in Dan,
An Apis of gold in Beth-El;
So bear your offerings, every man,
To them, and all will be well.

Gods are they who brought your sires
From Egypt in days agone;
So gather about their altar fires
And worship from eve to dawn.

I burn the incense, I am the priest,
Said Jeroboam, the king;
O Ephraim, come to my holy feast,
Said the son of Nebat, the king.

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