Children I have reared and raised them

But they have revolted and chose rebellion

An ox knows it’s owner and a donkey it’s masters den

But Israel does not know they do not understand

Is this not My chosen?

Is not all My emotion tied up in them?

All day long I stretch out My hand

But they does not see nor comprehend

Oh that my eyes were a fountain of tears

To weep day and night for the slain of Jerusalem

Oh that my head were a waterfall

To join you Lord in the pain of your wayward wife

Oh that I could discern and understand

What you feel when you see her play the harlot with another man

Your husbands fury is drawing near

Israel Your chosen, Israel Your beloved one!

A vineyard I have planted and nourished

To gather the fruits of justice and righteousness

But when I looked behold distress and bloodshed

She must be consumed I will remove her hedge

Behold it is I who wound you

It is also I who will heal you

When I crush I mend

I will redeem you Jerusalem

Behold it is I who wound you

It is also I who will heal you

When I crush I mend

I will redeem you Jerusalem

I will redeem you