If the Lord hath washed away The filth of daughters of Zion, And the blood of Jerusalem purgeth from her midst, By the spirit of judgment, and by the spirit of burning.
Go forth, and look, ye daughters of Zion, On king Solomon, with the crown, With which his mother crowned him, In the day of his espousals, And in the day of the joy of his heart!
Therefore by this is the iniquity of Jacob covered, And this `is' all the fruit -- To take away his sin, in His setting all the stones of an altar, As chalkstones beaten in pieces, They rise not -- shrines and images.
Her uncleanness `is' in her skirts, She hath not remembered her latter end, And she cometh down wonderfully, There is no comforter for her. See, O Jehovah, mine affliction, For exerted himself hath an enemy.
And I have brought the third into fire, And refined them like a refining of silver, And have tried them like a trying of gold, It doth call in My name, and I answer it, I have said, `My people it `is',' And it saith, `Jehovah `is' my God!'
For, lo, the day hath come, burning as a furnace, And all the proud, and every wicked doer, have been stubble, And burnt them hath the day that came, Said Jehovah of Hosts, That there is not left to them root or branch,
`Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that art killing the prophets, and stoning those sent unto thee, how often did I will to gather thy children together, as a hen doth gather her own chickens under the wings, and ye did not will.