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2 Alas! How the Lord is beclouding
The daughter of Zion!
From the heaven down to earth He hath hurled
The glory of Israel.
In the day of His wrath He remembers
His foot-stool no more.
2 Without pity the Lord hath engulfed
All the homesteads of Jacob.
In His wrath He hath torn clean down
All the strongholds of Judah,
Hath hurled to the ground in dishonour
Her king and her princes.
3 He hath hewn in the glow of His anger
All Israel’s horn.
He hath drawn His right hand back
From the face of the foe.
Like a fire He is blazing in Jacob,
Devouring around.
4 His bow He hath bent like a foeman;
He stands as for siege.
All the lovely He slays in the tent
Of the daughter of Zion.
He hath poured forth His anger like fire.
5 The Lord hath become like a foe;
He hath swallowed up Israel,
Swallowed her palaces all–
He hath ruined her strongholds,
And heaped on the daughter of Zion
Lamenting and woe.
6 His booth like His vine He hath ravaged;
He hath ruined His trysting-place.
Jehovah hath blotted from Zion
The feast and the sabbath.
The king and the priest He hath spurned
In the heat of His anger.
7 The Lord hath rejected His altar
And cast off His holy place,
Given to the hands of the foemen
The walls of her palaces.
In the house of the Lord there were shouts
Like the shouts of a feast-day.
8 For the walls of the daughter of Zion
The Lord hath planned ruin.
He stretched out the line, and withdrew not
His ravaging hand.
Wall and rampart He plunged into mourning–
Together they languish.
9 Sunk in the dust are her gates,
And her bars He hath shivered.
Her king and her princes are exiles
And guidance is none.
Yea, and no vision hath come
From the Lord to His prophets.
10 Speechless they sit on the ground,
Even the elders of Zion–
With dust cast up on their heads,
And with girdles of sack-cloth.
The maids of Jerusalem bow
With their heads to the ground.
11 Mine eyes are wasted with weeping,
My bowels are troubled.
My heart is poured out on the ground
For the wreck of my people.
The babe and the suckling lie faint
On the streets of the city.
12 To their mothers they keep on saying,
"O where is our bread?"
Like the wounded they lie in a swoon
On the streets of the city,
As they pour out their lives (to the death)
On the breasts of their mothers.
13 With what shall I rank or compare thee,
O daughter of Jerusalem?
Where is thy like, that I comfort thee,
Virgin of Zion?
For vast as the sea is thy ruin;
(Alas!) who can heal thee?
14 The visions thy prophets have brought thee
Are false and dishonest.
They did not uncover thy guilt,
And so save thee from exile.
The visions they uttered for thee
Were deceptive and false.
15 They clapped their hand over thee–
All they that passed by.
They hissed and they wagged their heads
At Jerusalem’s daughter.
" Is this the city men called
The Perfection of Beauty?"
16 Against thee thine enemies all
Opened wide their mouths,
They hissed and they wagged their heads
At Jerusalem’s daughter.
"Is this the city men called
The Perfection of Beauty?"
16b Against thee thine enemies all
Opened wide their mouths.
They hissed and they gnashed their teeth:
"We have swallowed her up.
Yes, this is the day that we looked for:
We have it, we see it."
17 Jehovah hath done what He planned,
Hath accomplished His word:
As in days long ago He enjoined,
He hath wrecked without pity,
Hath made thee the sport of thy foes
And exalted thine enemies.
18 Cry thou aloud to the Lord,
O virgin of Zion.
Pour down thy tears like a torrent
By day and by night,
Give thyself no respite,
No rest to thine eyes.
19 Arise, pierce the night with thy cries,
As each night-watch beginneth.
Pour out like water thy heart
In the face of the Lord.
Lift up thy hands unto Him
For the life of thy littles ones,
20 Behold, O Lord, and consider
Whom thus Thou maltreatest.
Shall women devour their own offspring,
The babes that they dandled?
Shall the priest and the prophet be slain
In the Lord’s holy place?
21 In the streets on the ground they are lying–
The young and the old.
My maidens and young men together
Are fallen by the sword.
In the day of Thy wrath Thou hast slaughtered
And slain without pity.
22 Thou didst summon, as though ’twere a feast-day,
The villages round.
But not one in the day of Thine anger
Escaped or was left;
The children I brought up and fondled
Were slain by the foe.
Lament and Prayer