Bound hath been the yoke of my transgressions by His hand, They are wrapped together, They have gone up on my neck, He hath caused my power to stumble, The Lord hath given me into hands, I am not able to rise.
Saying, When doth the new moon pass, And we sell ground corn? And the sabbath, and we open out pure corn? To make little the ephah, And to make great the shekel, And to use perversely balances of deceit.