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1 Woe is me! for I am as the last of the summer fruits, As the grape gleanings of the vintage; There is no cluster to eat; Nor first-ripe fig which my soul desireth. 2 The godly man is perished out of the earth, And the upright among men is no more; They all lie in wait for blood; They hunt every man his brother with a net. 3 Their hands are upon that which is evil to do it diligently; The prince asketh, and the judge is ready for a reward; And the great man, he uttereth the evil desire of his soul; Thus they weave it together. 4 The best of them is as a brier; The most upright is worse than a thorn hedge; The day of thy watchmen, even thy visitation, is come; Now shall be their perplexity. Micah 7:1-4, JPS Tanakh 1917. Public domain.
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