Even from the day when your fathers Went out of the land of Egypt till this day, I send to you all my servants the prophets, Daily rising early and sending,
In thine uncleanness `is' wickedness, Because I have cleansed thee, And thou hast not been cleansed, From thine uncleanness thou art not cleansed again, Till I have caused My fury to rest on thee.
`An empty vine `is' Israel, Fruit he maketh like to himself, According to the abundance of his fruit, He hath multiplied for the altars, According to the goodness of his land, They have made goodly standing-pillars.
`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.