¹⁸ My joy is gone, grief is upon me,
    my heart is sick.
¹⁹ Hark, the cry of my poor people
    from far and wide in the land:
‘Is the Lord not in Zion?
    Is her King not in her?’
(‘Why have they provoked me to anger with their images,
    with their foreign idols?’)
²⁰ ‘The harvest is past, the summer is ended,
    and we are not saved.’
²¹ For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt,
    I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.

9 ^[a] O that my head were a spring of water,
    and my eyes a fountain of tears,
so that I might weep day and night
    for the slain of my poor people!