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.

He hath walled in my ways with hewn stone, my paths, hath he caused to wind back.

My ways, hath he turned aside, and hath torn me in pieces, hath made me desolate;

Let us search out our ways, and examine them well, and let us return unto Yahweh;