'Woe' in the Bible

Woe to thee, O Moab, Thou hast perished, O people of Chemosh, He hath given his sons who escape -- Also his daughters -- Into captivity, to a king of the Amorite -- Sihon!

And the Philistines are afraid, for they said, 'God hath come in unto the camp;' and they say, 'Woe to us, for there hath not been like this heretofore.

Woe to us, who doth deliver us out of the hand of these honourable gods? these are the gods who are smiting the Egyptians with every plague in the wilderness.

If I have done wickedly -- woe to me, And righteously -- I lift not up my head, Full of shame -- then see my affliction,

Woe to me, for I have inhabited Mesech, I have dwelt with tents of Kedar.

Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? Who hath contentions? who hath plaint? Who hath wounds without cause? Who hath redness of eyes?

For if they fall, the one raiseth up his companion, but woe to the one who falleth and there is not a second to raise him up!

Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a youth, And thy princes do eat in the morning.

The appearance of their faces witnessed against them, And their sin, as Sodom, they declared, They have not hidden! Woe to their soul, For they have done to themselves evil.

Woe to the wicked -- evil, Because the deed of his hand is done to him.

Woe to those joining house to house, Field to field they bring near, till there is no place, And ye have been settled by yourselves In the midst of the land!

Woe to those rising early in the morning, Strong drink they pursue! Tarrying in twilight, wine inflameth them!

Woe to those drawing out iniquity with cords of vanity, And as with thick ropes of the cart -- sin.

Woe to those saying to evil 'good,' And to good 'evil,' Putting darkness for light, and light for darkness, Putting bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter.

Woe to the wise in their own eyes, And -- before their own faces -- intelligent!

Woe to the mighty to drink wine, And men of strength to mingle strong drink.

And I say, 'Woe to me, for I have been silent, For a man -- unclean of lips am I, And in midst of a people unclean of lips I am dwelling, Because the King, Jehovah of Hosts, have my eyes seen.'

Woe to those decreeing decrees of iniquity, And writers who have prescribed perverseness.

Woe to Asshur, a rod of Mine anger, And a staff in their hand is Mine indignation.

Woe to the multitude of many peoples, As the sounding of seas they sound; And to the wasting of nations, As the wasting of mighty waters they are wasted.

From the skirt of the earth we heard songs, The desire of the righteous. And I say, 'Leanness is to me, Leanness is to me, woe is to me.' Treacherous dealers dealt treacherously, Yea, treachery, treacherous dealers dealt treacherously.

Woe to the proud crown of the drunkards of Ephraim. And the fading flower of the beauty of his glory, That is on the head of the fat valley of the broken down of wine.

Woe to Ariel, Ariel, The city of the encampment of David! Add year to year, let festivals go round.

Woe to those going deep from Jehovah to hide counsel, And whose works have been in darkness. And they say, 'Who is seeing us? And who is knowing us?'

Woe to apostate sons, The affirmation of Jehovah! To do counsel, and not from Me, And to spread out a covering, and not of My spirit, So as to add sin to sin.

Woe to those going down to Egypt for help, And on horses lean, And trust on chariots, because many, And on horsemen, because very strong, And have not looked on the Holy One of Israel, And Jehovah have not sought.

Woe, spoiler! and thou not spoiled, And treacherous! and they dealt not treacherously with thee, When thou dost finish, O spoiler, thou art spoiled, When thou dost finish dealing treacherously, They deal treacherously with thee.

Woe to him who is striving with his Former, (A potsherd with potsherds of the ground!) Doth clay say to its Framer, 'What dost thou?' And thy work, 'He hath no hands?'

Woe to him who is saying to a father, 'What dost thou beget?' Or to a wife, 'What dost thou bring forth?

Lo, as clouds he cometh up, And as a hurricane his chariots, Lighter than eagles have been his horses, Woe to us, for we have been spoiled.

For a voice as of a sick woman I have heard, Distress, as of one bringing forth a first-born, The voice of the daughter of Zion, She bewaileth herself, she spreadeth out her hands, 'Woe to me now, for weary is my soul of slayers!'

Sanctify ye against her the battle, Rise, and we go up at noon. Woe to us, for turned hath the day, For stretched out are the shades of evening,

Woe to me for my breaking, Grievious hath been my smiting, And I said, Only, this is my sickness, and I bear it.

Thine adulteries, and thy neighings, The wickedness of thy whoredom, on heights in a field, I have seen thine abominations. Woe to thee, O Jerusalem, Thou art not cleansed, after when is it again?

Woe to me, my mother, For thou hast borne me a man of strife, And a man of contention to all the land, I have not lent on usury, Nor have they lent on usury to me -- All of them are reviling me.

Woe to him who is building his house by unrighteousness, And his upper chambers by injustice, On his neighbour he layeth service for nought, And his wage he doth not give to him.

Woe to shepherds destroying, And scattering the flock of My pasture, An affirmation of Jehovah.

Woe! for great is that day, without any like it, Yea, a time of adversity it is to Jacob, Yet out of it he is saved.

'Thou hast said, Woe to me, now, for Jehovah hath added sorrow to my pain, I have been wearied with my sighing, and rest I have not found.

Concerning Moab: 'Thus said Jehovah of Hosts, God of Israel: Woe unto Nebo, for it is spoiled, Put to shame, captured hath been Kiriathaim, Put to shame hath been the high tower, Yea, it hath been broken down.

Woe to thee, O Moab, Perished hath the people of Chemosh, For thy sons were taken with the captives, And thy daughters with the captivity.

Slay all her kine, they go down to slaughter, Woe is on them, for come hath their day, The time of their inspection.

Fallen hath the crown from our head, Woe is now to us, for we have sinned.

and He spreadeth it before me, and it is written in front and behind, and written on it are lamentations, and mourning, and woe!

Thus said the Lord Jehovah: Woe unto the prophets who are foolish, Who are going after their own spirit, And they have seen nothing.

And thou hast said: Thus said the Lord Jehovah: Woe to those sowing pillows for all joints of the arm, And to those making the kerchiefs For the head of every stature -- to hunt souls, The souls do ye hunt of My people? And the souls ye have do ye keep alive?

And it cometh to pass, after all thy wickedness, (Woe, woe, to thee -- an affirmation of the Lord Jehovah),

Therefore, thus said the Lord Jehovah: Woe to the city of blood, A pot whose scum is in it, And its scum hath not come out of it, By piece of it, by piece of it bring it out, Not fallen on it hath a lot.

Therefore, thus said the Lord Jehovah: Woe to the city of blood, yea, I -- I make great the pile.

Son of man, prophesy concerning shepherds of Israel, prophesy, and thou hast said unto them: To the shepherds, thus said the Lord Jehovah: Woe to the shepherds of Israel, Who have been feeding themselves! The flock do not the shepherds feed?

Woe to them, for they wandered from Me, Destruction to them, for they transgressed against Me, And I -- I ransom them, and they have spoken lies against Me,

For though they nourish their sons, I have made them childless -- without man, Surely also, woe to them, when I turn aside from them.

Woe to those secure in Zion, And those confident in the mount of Samaria, The marked of the chief of the nations, And come to them have the house of Israel.

Woe to those devising iniquity, And working evil on their beds, In the light of the morning they do it, For their hand is -- to God.

In that day doth one take up for you a simile, And he hath wailed a wailing of woe, He hath said, We have been utterly spoiled, The portion of my people He doth change, How doth He move toward me! To the backslider our fields He apportioneth.

My woe is to me, for I have been As gatherings of summer-fruit, As gleanings of harvest, There is no cluster to eat, The first-ripe fruit desired hath my soul.

Woe to the city of blood, She is all with lies -- burglary -- full, Prey doth not depart.

Do not these -- all of them -- against him a simile taken up, And a moral of acute sayings for him, And say, Woe to him who is multiplying what is not his? Till when also is he multiplying to himself heavy pledges?

Woe to him who is gaining evil gain for his house, To set on high his nest, To be delivered from the hand of evil,

Woe to him who is building a city by blood, And establishing a city by iniquity.

Woe to him who is giving drink to his neighbour, Pouring out thy bottle, and also making drunk, In order to look on their nakedness.

Woe to him who is saying to wood, 'Awake,' 'Stir up,' to a dumb stone, It a teacher! lo, it is overlaid -- gold and silver, And there is no spirit in its midst.

Woe to the rebellious and polluted, The oppressing city!

Woe to the worthless shepherd, forsaking the flock, A sword is on his arm, and on his right eye, His arm is utterly dried up, And his right eye is very dim!'