The ways of Zion are sad, because no one comes to the holy meeting; all her doorways are made waste, her priests are breathing out sorrow: her virgins are troubled, and 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.

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.

He has put up a wall of cut stones about my ways, he has made my roads twisted.

By him my ways have been turned on one side and I have been pulled in bits; he has made me waste.

Let us make search and put our ways to the test, turning again to the Lord;