7 He hath made my vine a desolation, and barked my fig-tree; he hath made it clean bare, and cast it away: its branches are made white.
8 Wail like a virgin girded with sackcloth for the husband of her youth.
9 The oblation and the drink-offering are cut off from the house of Jehovah; the priests, Jehovah's ministers, mourn.
10 The field is laid waste, the land mourneth; for the corn is wasted, the new wine is dried up, the oil languisheth.
11 Be ashamed, ye husbandmen; howl, ye vinedressers, for the wheat and for the barley: because the harvest of the field hath perished.
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