A perishing flock hath My people been, Their shepherds have caused them to err, To the mountains causing them to go back, From mountain unto hill they have gone, They have forgotten their crouching-place.

This is the exulting city that is dwelling confidently, That is saying in her heart, 'I am, and beside me there is none,' How hath she been for a desolation, A crouching-place for beasts, Every one passing by her doth hiss, He doth shake his hand!