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Jeremiah 8:21 - Tree of Life Version

“Because of the brokenness of the daughter of my people, I am brokenhearted. I mourn—desolation grips me.

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Taispeáin Interlinear Bible

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King 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.

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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.

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American Standard Version (1901)

For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt: I mourn; dismay hath taken hold on me.

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Common English Bible

Because my people are crushed, I am crushed; darkness and despair overwhelm me.

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Catholic Public Domain Version

Over the destruction of the daughter of my people, I am contrite and saddened; astonishment has taken hold of me.

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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.

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Aistriúcháin eile



Jeremiah 8:21
14 Tagairtí Cros  

but I said to the king, “May the king live forever! Why should my face not be sad, when the city where my ancestors are buried lies in ruins and its gates have been destroyed by fire?”


You will say this word to them: “Let my eyes overflow with tears. Night and day, may they never stop. For the virgin daughter of my people is crushed with a great blow, with a sorely infected wound.”


Judah will mourn, and her gates languish. They will bow in black to the ground And Jerusalem’s wail will go up.


As for me, I have not run away from being a shepherd after You, nor have I desired the woeful day. What came out of my lips You know—it was before You.


My stomach, my stomach! I writhe in anguish! The pain of my heart! My heart is pounding within me! I cannot keep silent because I have heard, O my soul, the sound of the shofar, the battle-cry of war.


“Harvest is past, summer is over, yet we are not saved.”


If only I had a travelers’ lodging place in the wilderness, then I might leave my people and get away from them! For they are all adulterers, a bunch of traitors.


I am the strong man who has seen affliction by the rod of His wrath.


Before them peoples are in anguish. All faces become ashen gray.


Plunder the silver! Plunder the gold! For there is no end of treasure— glory from everything precious.


As He drew near and saw Jerusalem, He wept over her,