We look on helpless as our crops are destroyed. There is no joy in the Temple of our God.
Be glad that we belong to him; let all who worship him rejoice.
Then I will go to your altar, O God; you are the source of my happiness. I will play my harp and sing praise to you, O God, my God.
Let me hear the sounds of joy and gladness; and though you have crushed me and broken me, I will be happy once again.
But he will answer, “Not me! I can't help you. I don't have any food or clothes either. Don't make me your leader!”
Put on sackcloth and weep, you priests who serve at the altar! Go into the Temple and mourn all night! There is no grain or wine to offer your God.