And when the sun had risen, the Lord ordered a hot and burning wind. And the sun beat down on the head of Jonah, and he burned. And he petitioned for his soul that he might die, and he said, "It is better for me to die than to live."
And you have said, "Behold our labor," and you have exhaled it away, says the Lord of hosts. And you brought in by plunder the lame, and the sick, and brought it in as a gift. How can I receive this from your hand, says the Lord?
And you have said, "What have we spoken against you?" You have said, "He labors in vain who serves God," and, "What advantage is it that we have kept his precepts, and that we have walked sorrowfully in the sight of the Lord of hosts?
For the sun has risen with a scorching heat, and has dried the grass, and its flower has fallen off, and the appearance of its beauty has perished. So also will the rich one wither away, according to his paths.