Wash from wickedness thy heart, O Jerusalem, That thou mayest be saved, - How long, shall lodge within thee thy wicked devices?

How long shall I keep on seeing a standard, - continue to hear the sound of a horn?

How long, shall the land mourn, And, the herbage of the whole field, wither? For the wickedness of them that dwell therein, beast and bird, have perished, For say they, He will not see our latter end!

Thine adulteries and thy neighings, thine unchaste wickedness, Upon the hills in the field, I have seen thine abominations! Woe to thee, O Jerusalem, Wilt thou not become pure? After how long yet?

So long as their sons remember their altars, and their Sacred Stems, By the green tree, - Upon the high hills,

How long shall it be in the heart of the prophets, To be prophets of falsehood, - And prophets of the deceit of their own heart?