and said unto the king, Let the king live for ever: why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire?
Jeremiah 8:21 - King James Version - American Edition For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt; I am black; astonishment hath taken hold on me. Tuilleadh leaganachaKing James Version (Oxford) 1769 For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt; I am black; astonishment hath taken hold on me. Amplified Bible - Classic Edition For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I [Jeremiah] hurt; I go around mourning; dismay has taken hold on me. American Standard Version (1901) For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt: I mourn; dismay hath taken hold on me. Common English Bible Because my people are crushed, I am crushed; darkness and despair overwhelm me. Catholic Public Domain Version Over the destruction of the daughter of my people, I am contrite and saddened; astonishment has taken hold of me. Douay-Rheims version of The Bible - 1752 version For the affliction of the daughter of my people, I am afflicted: and made sorrowful: astonishment hath taken hold on me. |
and said unto the king, Let the king live for ever: why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire?
Therefore thou shalt say this word unto them; Let mine eyes run down with tears night and day, and let them not cease: for the virgin daughter of my people is broken with a great breach, with a very grievous blow.
Judah mourneth, and the gates thereof languish; they are black unto the ground; and the cry of Jerusalem is gone up.
As for me, I have not hastened from being a pastor to follow thee: neither have I desired the woeful day; thou knowest: that which came out of my lips was right before thee.
My bowels, my bowels! I am pained at my very heart; my heart maketh a noise in me; I cannot hold my peace, because thou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.
Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!
Before their face the people shall be much pained: all faces shall gather blackness.
She is empty, and void, and waste: and the heart melteth, and the knees smite together, and much pain is in all loins, and the faces of them all gather blackness.