In that day, this song will be sung in the land of Judah: "We have a strong city. God appoints salvation for walls and bulwarks.

My soul hates your New Moons and your appointed feasts. They are a burden to me. I am weary of bearing them.

When he has leveled its surface, doesn't he plant the dill, and scatter the cumin seed, and put in the wheat in rows, the barley in the appointed place, and the spelt in its place?

Look at Zion, the city of our appointed festivals. Your eyes will see Jerusalem, a quiet habitation, a tent that won't be removed. Its stakes will never be plucked up, nor will any of its cords be broken.