The people<n id="1" /> who did not die were struck with sores; the city&#8217;s cry for help went all the way up to heaven.p>

<p class="poetry">I hear my dear people<n id="1" /> crying out<n id="2" />p> <p class="poetry">throughout the length and breadth of the land.<n id="3" />p> <p class="poetry">They are crying, &#8216;Is the <sc>Lordsc> no longer in Zion?p> <p class="poetry">Is her divine King<n id="4" /> no longer there?&#8217;&#8221;p> <p class="poetry">The <sc>Lordsc> answers,<n id="5" />p> <p class="poetry">&#8220;Why then do they provoke me to anger with their images,p> <p class="poetry">with their worthless foreign idols?&#8221;<n id="6" />p>