Because the vineyard of Jehovah of Hosts `Is' the house of Israel, And the man of Judah His pleasant plant, And He waiteth for judgment, and lo, oppression, For righteousness, and lo, a cry.
Thus said Jehovah of Hosts, Lo, I am sending among them the sword, the famine, and the pestilence, and I have given them up as figs that `are' vile, that are not eaten for badness.
As grapes in a wilderness I found Israel, As the first-fruit in a fig-tree, at its beginning, I have seen your fathers, They -- they have gone in `to' Baal-Peor, And are separated to a shameful thing, And are become abominable like their love.
My wo `is' to me, for I have been As gatherings of summer-fruit, As gleanings of harvest, There is no cluster to eat, The first-ripe fruit desired hath my soul.
`Ye are the salt of the land, but if the salt may lose savour, in what shall it be salted? for nothing is it good henceforth, except to be cast without, and to be trodden down by men.