Micah 7:1-4 ▼

1 My woe [is] to me, || For I have been as gatherings of summer-fruit, || As gleanings of harvest, || There is no cluster to eat, || The first-ripe fruit has my soul desired.

2 The kind have perished out of the land, || And upright among men—there are none, || All of them lie in wait for blood, || They each hunt his brother [with] a net.

3 On the evil [are] both hands to do [it] well, || The prince is asking—also the judge—for repayment, || And the great—he is speaking the mischief of his soul, || And they wrap it up.

4 Their best one [is] as a brier, || The upright one—than a thorn-hedge, || The day of your watchmen—Your visitation—has come. Now is their perplexity.