²¹ For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt: I mourn; dismay hath taken hold on me.

¹⁷ And thou shalt say this word unto them, Let mine eyes run down with tears night and day, and let them not cease; for the virgin daughter of my people is broken with a great breach, with a very grievous wound.

¹⁰ She is empty, and void, and waste; and the heart melteth, and the knees smite together, and anguish is in all loins, and the faces of them all are waxed pale.

⁶ At their presence the peoples are in anguish; all faces are waxed pale.

¹ I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience bearing witness with me in the Holy Spirit,

² that I have great sorrow and unceasing pain in my heart.

³ For I could wish that I myself were anathema from Christ for my brethren's sake, my kinsmen according to the flesh:

¹ Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!

¹⁹ My anguish, my anguish! I am pained at my very heart; my heart is disquieted in me; I cannot hold my peace; because thou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.

⁴¹ And when he drew nigh, he saw the city and wept over it,

¹⁶ As for me, I have not hastened from being a shepherd after thee; neither have I desired the woeful day; thou knowest: that which came out of my lips was before thy face.

⁵ I am black, but comely, Oh ye daughters of Jerusalem, As the tents of Kedar, As the curtains of Solomon.

⁶ Look not upon me, because I am swarthy, Because the sun hath scorched me. My mother's sons were incensed against me; They made me keeper of the vineyards; `But' mine own vineyard have I not kept.

³ For there they that led us captive required of us songs, And they that wasted us `required of us' mirth, `saying', Sing us one of the songs of Zion.

⁴ How shall we sing Jehovah's song In a foreign land?

⁵ If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, Let my right hand forget `her skill'.

⁶ Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, If I remember thee not; If I prefer not Jerusalem Above my chief joy.

³ And I said unto the king, Let the king live for ever: why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire?