Tremble, you women that are at ease; be troubled, you complacent ones: strip yourselves, and make yourselves bare, and gird sackcloth upon your waists.
The roads to Zion do mourn, because none come to the solemn feasts: all her gates are desolate: her priests sigh, her virgins are afflicted, and she is in bitterness.
And I will turn your feasts into mourning, and all your songs into lamentation; and I will bring up sackcloth upon every waist, and baldness upon every head; and I will make it like the mourning of an only son, and its end as a bitter day.
And did not he make them one? Yet had he the remnant of the spirit. And why one? That he might seek a godly offspring. Therefore take heed to your spirit, and let none deal treacherously against the wife of his youth.