And if ye do not hear it, In secret places doth my soul weep, because of pride, Yea, it weepeth sore, And the tear cometh down mine eyes, For the flock of Jehovah hath been taken captive.
And thou hast said unto them this word: Tears come down mine eyes night and day, And they do not cease, For, `with' a great breach, Broken hath been the virgin daughter of my people, A very grievous stroke.
My bowels, my bowels! I am pained `at' the walls of my heart, Make a noise for me doth My heart, I am not silent, For the voice of a trumpet I have heard, O my soul -- a shout of battle!
For these I am weeping, My eye, my eye, is running down with waters, For, far from me hath been a comforter, Refreshing my soul, My sons have been desolate, For mighty hath been an enemy.
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,
Cried hath their heart unto the Lord; O wall of the daughter of Zion, Cause to go down as a stream tears daily and nightly, Give not rest to thyself, Let not the daughter of thine eye stand still.