Isaiah.
Chapter 5.
Now let me sing for my Beloved, || A song of my Beloved as to His vineyard: My beloved has a vineyard in a fruitful hill, 
And He fences it, and casts out its stones, || And plants it with a choice vine, || And builds a tower in its midst, || And has also hewn out a winepress in it, || And He waits for the yielding of grapes, || And it yields bad ones! 
And now, O inhabitant of Jerusalem and man of Judah, || Please judge between Me and My vineyard. 
What is there to do still to My vineyard, || That I have not done in it? For what reason have I waited for the yielding of grapes, || And it yields only bad ones? 
And now, pray, let Me cause you to know, || That which I am doing to My vineyard, || To turn its hedge aside, || And it has been for consumption, || To break down its wall, || And it has been for a treading-place. 
And I make it a waste, || It is not pruned, nor arranged, || And brier and thorn have gone up, || And I lay a charge on the thick clouds, || From raining on it rain. 
Because the vineyard of YHWH of Hosts || Is the house of Israel, || And the man of Judah His pleasant plant, || And He waits for judgment, and behold, oppression, || For righteousness, and behold, a cry. 
Woe to those joining house to house, || They bring field near to field, || Until there is no place, || And you have been settled by yourselves || In the midst of the land! 
Do many houses not become a desolation by the weapons of YHWH of Hosts? Great and good without inhabitant! 
For ten acres of vineyard yield one bath, || And a homer of seed yields an ephah. 
Woe to those rising early in the morning, || They pursue strong drink! Lingering in twilight, wine inflames them! 
And harp, and stringed instrument, tambourine, and pipe, || And wine, have been their banquets, || And they do not behold the work of YHWH, || Indeed, they have not seen the work of His hands. 
Therefore my people removed without knowledge, || And its honorable ones are famished, || And its multitude dried up of thirst. 
Therefore Sheol has enlarged herself, || And has opened her mouth without limit. And its honor has gone down, and its multitude, || And its noise, and its exulting one—into her. 
And the low is bowed down, and the high humbled, || And the eyes of the haughty become low, 
And YHWH of Hosts is high in judgment, || And the Holy God sanctified in righteousness, 
And lambs have fed according to their leading, || And sojourners consume wastelands of the fat ones. 
Woe to those drawing out iniquity with cords of vanity, || And as with thick ropes of the cart—sin. 
Who are saying, “Let Him hurry, || Let Him hurry His work, that we may see, || And let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel || Draw near and come, and we know.” 
Woe to those saying to evil “good,” and to good “evil,” || Putting darkness for light, and light for darkness, || Putting bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. 
Woe to the wise in their own eyes, || And—before their own faces—intelligent! 
Woe to the mighty to drink wine, || And men of strength to mingle strong drink. 
Declaring righteous the wicked for a bribe, || And the righteousness of the righteous || They turn aside from him. 
Therefore, as a tongue of fire devours stubble, || And flaming hay falls, || Their root is as muck, || And their flower goes up as dust. Because they have rejected the Law of YHWH of Hosts, || And despised the saying of the Holy One of Israel. 
Therefore the anger of YHWH has burned among His people, || And He stretches out His hand against it, || And strikes it, and the mountains tremble, || And their carcass is as filth in the midst of the out-places. With all this His anger did not turn back, || And still His hand is stretched out! 
And He lifted up an ensign to the far-off nations, || And hissed to it from the end of the earth, || And behold, with haste, it comes swiftly. 
There is none weary, nor stumbling in it, || It does not slumber, nor sleep, || Nor has the girdle of its loins been opened, || Nor the strap of its sandals drawn away. 
Whose arrows are sharp, and all its bows bent, || Hooves of its horses have been reckoned as flint, || And its wheels as a windstorm! 
Its roaring is like a lioness, || It roars like young lions, || And it howls, and seizes prey, || And carries away safely, and there is none delivering. 
And it howls against it in that day as the howling of a sea, || And it has looked attentively to the land, || And behold, darkness—distress, || And light has been darkened by its abundance! 
