My dear people, dress yourselves in sackcloth and roll in the dust. Mourn as you would for an only son, a bitter lament, for suddenly the destroyer will come on us.
There will be nothing to do except crouch among the prisoners or fall among the slain. In all this, his anger has not turned away, and his hand is still raised to strike.
Therefore the Lord’s anger burned against his people. He raised his hand against them and struck them; the mountains quaked, and their corpses were like rubbish in the streets. In all this, his anger has not turned away, and his hand is still raised to strike.
I will turn your feasts into mourning and all your songs into lamentation; I will cause everyone to wear sackcloth and every head to be shaved. I will make that grief like mourning for an only son and its outcome like a bitter day.
‘Cry out and wail, son of man, for it is against my people. It is against all the princes of Israel! They are given over to the sword with my people. Therefore strike your thigh in grief.
Manasseh eats Ephraim, and Ephraim, Manasseh; together, both are against Judah. In all this, his anger has not turned away, and his hand is still raised to strike.
Therefore the Lord does not rejoice over Israel’s young men and has no compassion on its fatherless and widows, for everyone is a godless evildoer, and every mouth speaks folly. In all this, his anger has not turned away, and his hand is still raised to strike.
Aram from the east and Philistia from the west have consumed Israel with open mouths. In all this, his anger has not turned away, and his hand is still raised to strike.
The Lord said to Moses, ‘Take all the leaders of the people and execute them in broad daylight before the Lord so that his burning anger may turn away from Israel.’
Is this nothing to you, all you who pass by? Look and see! Is there any pain like mine, which was dealt out to me, which the Lord made me suffer on the day of his burning anger?
Dress in sackcloth and lament, you priests; wail, you ministers of the altar. Come and spend the night in sackcloth, you ministers of my God, because grain and drink offerings are withheld from the house of your God.
Wail, you shepherds, and cry out. Roll in the dust, you leaders of the flock. Because the days of your slaughter have come, you will fall and become shattered like a precious vase.
Shave yourselves bald and cut off your hair in sorrow for your precious children; make yourselves as bald as an eagle, for they have been taken from you into exile.