D aughter of my people, clothe yourself with sackcloth, and wallow in ashes! Mourn, as for an only son, most bitter lamentation; for the destroyer shall suddenly come on us.
O daughter of My people, Gird on sackcloth, and roll thyself in ashes, The mourning of an only one make for thee, A lamentation most bitter, For suddenly come doth the spoiler against us.
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