He hath bent his bow like an enemy: he stood with his right hand as an adversary, and slew all that were pleasant to the eye in the tabernacle of the daughter of Zion: he poured out his fury like fire.

And he hath violently taken away his tabernacle, as if it were of a garden: he hath destroyed his places of the assembly: the LORD hath caused the solemn feasts and sabbaths to be forgotten in Zion, and in the indignation of his anger hath despised the king and the priest.

They that fed delicately are desolate in the streets: they that were brought up in scarlet embrace dunghills.

Her Nazarites were purer than snow, they were whiter than milk, they were more ruddy in body than rubies, their polishing was of sapphire:

The hands of the pitiful women have boiled their own children: they were their food in the destruction of the daughter of my people.

Princes were hanged by their hand: the faces of elders were not honored.