Dress in sackcloth and lament, you priests;
wail, you ministers of the altar.
Come and spend the night in sackcloth,
you ministers of my God,
because grain and drink offerings
are withheld from the house of your God.

They attack as warriors attack;
they scale walls as men of war do.
Each goes on his own path,
and they do not change their course.

They do not push each other;
each man proceeds on his own path.
They dodge the arrows, never stopping.

Tear your hearts,
not just your clothes,
and return to the Lord your God.
For He is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger, rich in faithful love,
and He relents from sending disaster.

Let the priests, the Lord’s ministers,
weep between the portico and the altar.
Let them say:
“Have pity on Your people, Lord,
and do not make Your inheritance a disgrace,
an object of scorn among the nations.
Why should it be said among the peoples,
‘Where is their God?’”

I will pardon their bloodguilt,
which I have not pardoned,
for the Lord dwells in Zion.