I planted you, a choice vine
from the very best seed.
How then could you turn into
a degenerate, foreign vine?

I have struck down your children in vain;
they would not accept discipline.
Your own sword has devoured your prophets
like a ravaging lion.

This is what the Lord of Hosts says:

Glean the remnant of Israel
as thoroughly as a vine.
Pass your hand once more like a grape gatherer
over the branches.

The bellows blow,
blasting the lead with fire.
The refining is completely in vain;
the evil ones are not separated out.

I will gather them and bring them to an end.
This is the Lord’s declaration.
There will be no grapes on the vine,
no figs on the fig tree,
and even the leaf will wither.
Whatever I have given them will be lost to them.

Even the doe in the field
gives birth and abandons her fawn
since there is no grass.

Go up to Gilead and get balm,
Virgin Daughter Egypt!
You have multiplied remedies in vain;
there is no healing for you.

I will weep for you, vine of Sibmah,
with more than the weeping for Jazer.
Your tendrils have extended to the sea;
they have reached to the sea and to Jazer.
The destroyer has fallen on your summer fruit and grape harvest.