From the sound of the stamping of the hoofs of his mighty ones, From the rushing of his chariot, the noise of his wheels, Fathers have not turned unto sons, From feebleness of hands,
Say to the house of Israel: Thus said the Lord Jehovah: Lo, I am polluting My sanctuary, The excellency of your strength, The desire of your eyes, and the pitied of your soul, And your sons and your daughters whom ye have left, by sword they do fall.
And your bonnets `are' on your heads, And your shoes `are' on your feet, Ye do not mourn nor do ye weep, And ye have wasted away for your iniquities, And ye have howled one unto another.
`As to the leper in whom `is' the plague, his garments are rent, and his head is uncovered, and he covereth over the upper lip, and `Unclean! unclean!' he calleth;