He hath bent his bow like an enemy:
The arrows are aimed at our iniquity.
We cannot complain,
This comes from ruineous choices.
He stood with his right hand as an adversary,
Holding his glittering sword,
And slew all that were pleasant to the eye.
In the tabernacle of the daughter of Zion:
This is where judgment always begins,
But how quickly it arrived.
He poured out his fury like fire.
Once finished with us, what hope do the rest have?