Weep like a young virgin dressed in black, mourning the loss of her fiancé. Without grain and grapes, worship has been brought to a standstill in the Sanctuary of GOD. The priests are at a loss. GOD’s ministers don’t know what to do. The fields are sterile. The very ground grieves. The wheat fields are lifeless, vineyards dried up, olive oil gone. Dirt farmers, despair! Grape growers, wring your hands! Lament the loss of wheat and barley. All crops have failed. Vineyards dried up, fig trees withered, Pomegranates, date palms, and apple trees— deadwood everywhere! And joy is dried up and withered in the hearts of the people. And also you priests, put on your robes and join the outcry. You who lead people in worship, lead them in lament. Spend the night dressed in gunnysacks, you servants of my God. Nothing’s going on in the place of worship, no offerings, no prayers—nothing. Declare a holy fast, call a special meeting, get the leaders together, Round up everyone in the country. Get them into GOD’s Sanctuary for serious prayer to GOD.
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