The Babylonian Exile

The face of Jehovah hath divided them, He doth not add to behold them, The face of priests they have not lifted up, Elders they have not favoured.

While we exist--consumed are our eyes for our vain help, In our watch-tower we have watched for a nation that saveth not.

They have hunted our steps from going in our broad-places, Near hath been our end, fulfilled our days, For come hath our end.

Swifter have been our pursuers, Than the eagles of the heavens, On the mountains they have burned after us, In the wilderness they have laid wait for us.

The breath of our nostrils--the anointed of Jehovah, Hath been captured in their pits, of whom we said: `In his shadow we do live among nations.'

Joy and rejoice, O daughter of Edom, Dwelling in the land of Uz, Even unto thee pass over doth a cup, Thou art drunk, and makest thyself naked.

Completed is thy iniquity, daughter of Zion, He doth not add to remove thee, He hath inspected thy iniquity, O daughter of Edom, He hath removed thee because of thy sins!

Remember, O Jehovah, what hath befallen us, Look attentively, and see our reproach.

Our inheritance hath been turned to strangers, Our houses to foreigners.

Orphans we have been--without a father, our mothers are as widows.

Our water for money we have drunk, Our wood for a price doth come.

For our neck we have been pursued, We have laboured--there hath been no rest for us.

To Egypt we have given a hand, To Asshur, to be satisfied with bread.

Our fathers have sinned--they are not, We their iniquities have borne.

Servants have ruled over us, A deliverer there is none from their hand.

With our lives we bring in our bread, Because of the sword of the wilderness.

Our skin as an oven hath been burning, Because of the raging of the famine.

Wives in Zion they have humbled, Virgins--in cities of Judah.

Princes by their hand have been hanged, The faces of elders have not been honoured.

Young men to grind they have taken, And youths with wood have stumbled.

The aged from the gate have ceased, Young men from their song.

Ceased hath the joy of our heart, Turned to mourning hath been our dancing.

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

For this hath our heart been sick, For these have our eyes been dim.

For the mount of Zion--that is desolate, Foxes have gone up on it.