Make thy moan as a virgin doth that girdeth herself with sack, because of her bridegroom.

The grape gatherers shall make great moan, when the vineyard and fig trees be so utterly wasted. Yea all the pomegranates, palm trees, apple trees, and the other trees of the field shall wither away. Thus the merry cheer of the children of men shall come to confusion.

Gird you, and make your moan, O ye priests: mourn ye ministers of the alter: go your way in, and sleep in sackcloth, O ye officers of my God: for the meat and drink offering shall be taken away from the house of your God.