Isn’t the fast I choose:
To break the chains of wickedness,
to untie the ropes of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free,
and to tear off every yoke?

Does the plowman plow every day to plant seed?
Does he continuously break up and cultivate the soil?

I thought until the morning:
He will break all my bones like a lion;
You make an end of me day and night.