My heart cries out for Moab; His fugitives are as far as Zoar and Eglath shelishiyah, For they go up the ascent of Luhith weeping; Indeed, on the road to Horonaim they raise a cry of distress over their collapse.
“ Therefore My heart makes a sound like flutes for Moab; My heart also makes a sound like flutes for the men of Kir heres. Therefore they have lost the abundance it produced.
Look down from heaven and see from Your holy and glorious lofty habitation; Where are Your zeal and Your mighty deeds? The stirrings of Your heart and Your compassion are restrained toward me.
How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I surrender you, Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? My heart is turned over within Me, All My compassions are kindled.
Is Ephraim My dear son? Is he a delightful child? Indeed, as often as I have spoken against him, I certainly still remember him; Therefore My heart yearns for him; I will certainly have mercy on him,” declares the Lord.
My soul, my soul! I am in anguish! Oh, my heart! My heart is pounding in me; I cannot keep silent, Because, my soul, you have heard The sound of the trumpet, The alarm of war.