11Tremble ye women, ye easy ones, Be troubled, ye confident ones, Strip and make bare, with a girdle on the loins,
12For breasts they are lamenting, For fields of desire, for the fruitful vine.
13Over the ground of my people thorn -- brier goeth up, Surely over all houses of joy of the exulting city,
14Surely the palace hath been left, The multitude of the city forsaken, Fort and watch-tower hath been for dens unto the age, A joy of wild asses -- a pasture of herds;
15Till emptied out on us is the Spirit from on high, And a wilderness hath become a fruitful field, And the fruitful field for a forest is reckoned.
16And dwelt in the wilderness hath judgment, And righteousness in the fruitful field remaineth.
17And a work of the righteousness hath been peace, And a service of the righteousness -- Keeping quiet and confidence unto the age.