 The daughter of my people, be thou girded with hair-shirt, and be thou sprinkled together with ashes; make to thee mourning of the one alone begotten son, a bitter wailing, for why a waster shall come suddenly up on you. The daughter of my people, be thou girded with a hair-shirt, and be thou altogether sprinkled with ashes; make thyself as if mourning for thy only begotten son, yea, a bitter wailing, for a destroyer shall suddenly come upon you. 