Study Desk

^(F1)My ^(C1)sorrow is beyond healing, My ^(C2)heart is faint within me!

Behold, listen! The cry of the daughter of my people from a ^(C1)distant land: "Is the LORD not in Zion? Is her King not within her?" "Why have they ^(C2)provoked Me with their carved images, with foreign ^(F1)(C3)idols?"

"Harvest is past, summer is over, And we are not saved."

I am broken over the ^(C1)brokenness of the daughter of my people. I ^(C2)mourn, dismay has taken hold of me.

Is there no ^(C1)balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? ^(C2)Why then has not the ^(F1)health of the daughter of my people ^(F2)been restored?

^(F1)(C1)Oh, that my head were waters And my eyes a fountain of tears, That I might weep day and night For those slain of the ^(C2)daughter of my people!

^(F1)(C1)Oh that I had in the desert A travelers' lodging place; So that I might leave my people And go away from them! For all of them are ^(C2)adulterers, An assembly of ^(C3)treacherous people.