The ways to Zion, are mourning, because none come to her appointed feasts, All her gates, are desolate, her priests, are sighing, - her virgins, are grieved, and, she, it is bitter for her.

In her skirts were her unclean ways; she gave no thought to her end; and her fall has been a wonder; she has no comforter: see her sorrow, O Lord; for the attacker is lifted up.

Is it nothing to you, all ye passing by the way? Look attentively, and see, If there is any pain like my pain, That He is rolling to me? Whom Jehovah hath afflicted In the day of the fierceness of His anger.

A watch is kept on my sins; they are joined together by his hand, they have come on to my neck; he has made my strength give way: the Lord has given me up into the hands of those against whom I have no power.

They clap hands over you, all who pass along the way; they hiss and they shake their head, at the daughter of Jerusalem. Is this the city of which it is said, "A perfection of beauty, a joy for all the earth?"

He hath inclosed my ways with hewn stone, he hath made my paths crooked.

He hath turned aside my ways, and pulled me in pieces: he hath made me desolate.

Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the LORD.