American Standard Version of 1901
Versliste
Servants rule over us:There is none to deliver us out of their hand.
We get our bread at the peril of our lives,Because of the sword of the wilderness.
Our skin is {Or, hot}black like an oven,Because of the burning heat of famine.
They ravished the women in Zion,The virgins in the cities of Judah.
Princes were hanged up by their hand:The faces of elders were not honored.
The young men bare the mill;And the children stumbled under the wood.
The elders have ceased from the gate,The young men from their music.
The joy of our heart is ceased;Our dance is turned into mourning.
The crown is fallen from our head:Woe unto us! for we have sinned.
For this our heart is faint;For these things our eyes are dim;
For the mountain of Zion, which is desolate:The {Or, jackels}foxes walk upon it.