Rouse yourself! Rouse yourself! Arise, O Jerusalem, You who have drunk from the LORD’S hand the cup of His anger; The chalice of reeling you have drained to the dregs. There is none to guide her among all the sons she has borne, Nor is there one to take her by the hand among all the sons she has reared. These two things have befallen you; Who will mourn for you? The devastation and destruction, famine and sword; How shall I comfort you? Your sons have fainted, They lie helpless at the head of every street, Like an antelope in a net, Full of the wrath of the LORD, The rebuke of your God.
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