Consumed by tears have been my eyes, Troubled have been my bowels, Poured out to the earth hath been my liver, For the breach of the daughter of my people; In infant and suckling being feeble, In the broad places of the city,
And also, I, I have lifted up My hand to them in the wilderness, Not to bring them in to the land that I had given, Flowing with milk and honey, A beauty it `is' to all the lands,
In that day I did lift up My hand to them, To bring them forth from the land of Egypt, Unto a land that I spied out for them, Flowing with milk and honey, A beauty it `is' to all the lands,
It hath made my vine become a desolation, And my fig-tree become a chip, It hath made it thoroughly bare, and hath cast down, Made white have been its branches.