You called for planks
   from Senir's fir,
You took for a mast
   a cedar from Lebanon,
You made oars from
   the oaks of Bashan,
You inlaid your planks
   with Cyprus ivory,
You raised your sails of splendor,
   purple and blue, the best of linen
      from the coasts of Elishah.

Instead of My hand
   holding you high and mighty,
The East wind 
   will break you in two,
      sinking you to the depths
         of the low and paltry.

Cries from the shore
   will be heard even inland,
But for fear for themselves,
   they will regard you no more.

God made you precious,
   but such was not enough. 
The deep dark instead said
   you were made of godly stuff.
 

Ezekiel 26, 27, 28