And it hath been, instead of spice is muck, And instead of a girdle, a rope, And instead of curled work, baldness, And instead of a stomacher a girdle of sackcloth.
We have lain down in our shame, and cover us doth our confusion, For against Jehovah our God we have sinned, We, and our fathers, from our youth even unto this day, Nor have we hearkened to the voice of Jehovah our God!
O daughter of My people, Gird on sackcloth, and roll thyself in ashes, The mourning of an only one make for thee, A lamentation most bitter, For suddenly come doth the spoiler against us.
Gird, and lament, ye priests, Howl, ye ministrants of the altar, Come in, lodge in sackcloth, ministrants of my God, For withheld from the house of your God hath been present and libation.
And have turned your festivals to mourning, And all your songs to lamentation, And caused sackcloth to come up on all loins, And on every head -- baldness, And made it as a mourning `of' an only one, And its latter end as a day of bitterness.