Gladness and joy are taken away from the fruitful field. In the vineyards, no singing for joy no happy shouting, no treading wine in the presses. I have made the shouting stop.
Oy to him who builds his house by unrighteousness, and his roof-chambers by injustice, that makes his neighbor work without pay, never giving him his wages,
Behold, the wages of the workers who mowed your fields—which you kept back by fraud—are crying out against you. And the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of Hosts.