American Standard Version of 1901
Versliste
Oh that I could comfort myself against sorrow! my heart is faint within me.
Behold, the voice of the cry of the daughter of my people {Or, because of}from a land that is very far off: is not Jehovah in Zion? is not her King in her? Why have they provoked me to anger with their graven images, and with foreign vanities?
The harvest is past, the {Or, ingathering of summer fruits}summer is ended, and we are not saved.
For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt: I mourn; dismay hath taken hold on me.
Is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there? why then is not the {Or, healing}health of the daughter of my people {Or, perfected Hebrew: gone up.}recovered?