Her adversaries are the chief, Her enemies prosper; For the LORD hath afflicted her For the multitude of her transgressions: Her children are gone Into captivity before the enemy.
Her filthiness is in her skirts; She remembereth not her last end; Therefore she came down wonderfully: She had no comforter. O LORD, behold my affliction: For the enemy hath magnified himself.
When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: For I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, With the voice of joy and praise, With a multitude that kept holyday.
Wherefore the king said unto me, Why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou art not sick? this is nothing else but sorrow of heart. Then I was very sore afraid,