Our food is already gone; there's no more celebrating at the temple of our God.
Then I will worship at your altar because you make me joyful. You are my God, and I will praise you. Yes, I will praise you as I play my harp.
Mourn, you priests who serve at the altar of my God. Spend your days and nights wearing sackcloth. Offerings of grain and wine are no longer brought to the Lord's temple.
But the answer will be, “I can't do you any good. Don't make me your leader. There's no food or clothing left in my house.”
Celebrate and worship his holy name with all your heart.
Let me be happy and joyful! You crushed my bones, now let them celebrate.