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 pure than snow, wider than milk. Their bodies were more ruddy 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 shriveled on their bones.

It has become as dry as wood.

Happier were the victims of the swore 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, that foe or enemy could enter the gates of Jerusalem.

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