The Hebrew Prophets

Of the mirrors, and of the linen garments, And of the hoods, and of the vails,

And it hath been, instead of spice is muck, And instead of a girdle, a rope, And instead of curled work, baldness, And instead of a stomacher a girdle of sackcloth.

For instead of glory, thy men by sword do fall, And thy might in battle.

And lamented and mourned have her openings, Yea, she hath been emptied, on the earth she sitteth!

And taken hold have seven women on one man, In that day, saying, `Our own bread we do eat, And our own raiment we put on, Only, let thy name be called over us, Remove thou our reproach.'

In that day is the Shoot of Jehovah for desire and for honour, And the fruit of the earth For excellence and for beauty to the escaped of Israel.

And it hath been, he who is left in Zion, And he who is remaining in Jerusalem, `Holy' is said of him, Of every one who is written for life in Jerusalem.

If the Lord hath washed away The filth of daughters of Zion, And the blood of Jerusalem purgeth from her midst, By the spirit of judgment, and by the spirit of burning.

Then hath Jehovah prepared Over every fixed place of Mount Zion, And over her convocations, A cloud by day, and smoke, And the shining of a flaming fire by night, That, over all honour a safe-guard,

And a covering may be, For a shadow by day from drought, And for a refuge, and for a hiding place, From inundation and from rain!

Let me sing, I pray you, for my beloved, A song of my beloved as to his vineyard: My beloved hath a vineyard in a fruitful hill,

And he fenceth it, and casteth out its stones, And planteth it with a choice vine, And buildeth a tower in its midst, And also a wine press hath hewn out in it, And he waiteth for the yielding of grapes, And it yieldeth bad ones!

And now, O inhabitant of Jerusalem, and man of Judah, Judge, I pray you, between me and my vineyard.

What--to do still to my vineyard, That I have not done in it! Wherefore, I waited to the yielding of grapes, And it yieldeth bad ones!

And now, pray, let me cause you to know, That which I am doing to my vineyard, To turn aside its hedge, And it hath been for consumption, To break down its wall, And it hath been for a treading-place.

And I make it a waste, It is not pruned, nor arranged, And gone up have brier and thorn, And on the thick clouds I lay a charge, From raining upon it rain.

Because the vineyard of Jehovah of Hosts Is the house of Israel, And the man of Judah His pleasant plant, And He waiteth for judgment, and lo, oppression, For righteousness, and lo, a cry.

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!

By the weapons of Jehovah of Hosts Do not many houses a desolation become? Great and good without inhabitant!

For ten acres of vineyard do yield one bath, And an homer of seed yieldeth an ephah.

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

And harp, and psaltery, tabret, and pipe, And wine, have been their banquets, And the work of Jehovah they behold not, Yea, the work of His hands they have not seen.

Therefore my people removed without knowledge, And its honourable ones are famished, And its multitude dried up of thirst.

Therefore hath Sheol enlarged herself, And hath opened her mouth without limit. And gone down hath its honour, and its multitude, And its noise, and its exulting one--into her.

And bowed down is the low, and humbled the high, And the eyes of the haughty become low,