And they will wail with the songs of the palace in that day,” declares Lord Yahweh. “Many will be the corpses; in every place they will cast them forth in silence.”
Then the angel of Yahweh went out and struck 185,000 in the camp of the Assyrians. And the men arose early in the morning, and behold, all of them were dead bodies.
Therefore thus says Yahweh in regard to Jehoiakim the son of Josiah, king of Judah, “They will not lament for him: ‘Alas, my brother!’ or, ‘Alas, sister!’ They will not lament for him: ‘Alas for the master!’ or, ‘Alas for his splendor!’
The elders of the daughter of Zion Sit on the ground; they are silent. They have thrown dust up on their heads; They have girded themselves with sackcloth. The virgins of Jerusalem Have bowed their heads down to the ground.
¶Gird yourselves with sackcloth And lament, O priests; Wail, O ministers of the altar! Come, spend the night in sackcloth, O ministers of my God; For the grain offering and the drink offering Are withheld from the house of your God.
Then Moses said to Aaron, “It is what Yahweh spoke, saying, ‘By those who come near Me I will be treated as holy, And before all the people I will be glorified.’ ” So Aaron kept silent.
“I sent a pestilence among you after the manner of Egypt; I killed your choice men by the sword along with your captured horses, And I made the stench of your camp rise up even in your nostrils; Yet you have not returned to Me,” declares Yahweh.
Therefore thus says Yahweh God of hosts, the Lord, “There is wailing in all the plazas, And in all the streets they say, ‘Alas! Alas!’ They also call the farmer to mourning And professional weepers to wailing.
¶Lord Yahweh has sworn by Himself, Yahweh God of hosts has declared: “I abhor the lofty pride of Jacob And hate his citadels; Therefore I will deliver up the city as well as its fullness.”
“Then I will overturn your feasts into mourning And all your songs into lamentation; And I will bring up sackcloth on everyone’s loins And baldness on every head. And I will make it like a time of mourning for an only son, And the end of it will be like a bitter day.
Horsemen charging, And swords flaming, and spears flashing, Many slain, a mass of corpses, And there is no end to dead bodies— They stumble over the dead bodies!