The ways of Zion do mourn, because none come to the solemn feasts: all her gates are desolate: her priests sigh, her virgins are afflicted, and she is in bitterness.

The yoke of my transgressions is bound by his hand: they are wreathed, and come up upon my neck: he hath made my strength to fall, the Lord hath delivered me into their hands, from whom I am not able to rise.

Let all their wickedness come before thee; and do to them, as thou hast done to me for all my transgressions: for my sighs are many, and my heart is faint.

Fear and a snare is come upon us, desolation and destruction.

They hunt our steps, that we cannot go in our streets: our end is near, our days are fulfilled; for our end is come.

Remember, O LORD, what is come upon us: consider, and behold our reproach.