A reading from the Book of Lamentations.

How the gold has grown dim, how the pure gold is changed.

The holy stones lie scattered at the head of every street.

The precious sons of Zion worth their weight in fine gold,

how they are regarded as earthen pots, the work of a potter's hands. Even jackals

offer the breast. They nurse their young, but the daughter of my people has become cruel,

like the ostriches in the wilderness. The tongue of the nursing infant sticks to the roof of its mouth

for thirst.

The children beg for food, but no one gives to them.

Those who once feasted on delicacies perish in the streets.

Those who were brought up in purple embrace ash heaps.

For the chastisement of the daughter of my people has been greater than the

punishment of Sodom, which was overthrown in a moment, and no hands were rung for her. Her princes were

purer than snow, whiter than milk. Their bodies were more ready than coral. The beauty of their form was like sapphire.

Now their face is blacker than soot. They are not recognized in the streets. Their skin has

shrivelled on their bones. It has become as dry as wood. Happier were the victims of the sword

than the victims of hunger, who wasted away, pierced

by lack of the fruits of the field. The hands of compassionate women have boiled their own children.

They became their food during the destruction of the daughter of my people.

The Lord gave full vent to his wrath.

He poured out his hot anger, and he kindled a fire in Zion that consumed its foundations.

The kings of the earth did not believe, nor any of the inhabitants of the world,

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