A dark and delphic verse, out of joint with what precedes and follows, the type of abrupt and fragmentary utterances which has made many a student of the little book complain with Jerome: Osee commaticus est et quasi per sententias loquens. The ready acquiescence in the familiar refuge of the fatigued philologist, ‘corrupt beyond restoration’, is nowhere more regrettable than in Hos 65. The verse, obviously defaced, mars a glorious bit of ancient Hebrew writing, the otherwise well preserved poem 61–6. Generations have used all their wit and skill of interpretation to read some coherent meaning into the puzzling passage, willing at times to forego rules of biblical grammar or even fundamentals of biblical faith. All in vain. For ḥāṣabtî can be as little squared with haragtîm as one can conceive of Hosea, a heart of deepest tenderness, believing the prophets to have been slayers of their people or God to have been the slayer of the prophets. Whatever ‘demonic’ features his concept of deity may contain—inherited from sterner generations or reflecting the transient moods to which a sensitive and impulsive poet is given—its innermost and abiding nature is inexhaustible love which no sin of man can wear out, let alone sway to cruel injustice.