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Ferrar Fenton Bible: Joel 1


(Date about 800 B.C.)

The Message of the Lord that came to Joel-ben-Pethuel.

An Appeal to the Old Men.

You Elders, come listen to this,
And attend, all who dwell in the land !
Has this ever been in your lifetime ?—
Or occurred in the days of your fathers ?
About it relate to your children, —
And let your sons tell it to their sons,
And they to the sons who succeed them.

What the grub left, now the locust has eaten !
And the Licker devours what the Locust had left !
And the orts of the Licker the Swarmer consumes !

  Awake, drunkard, and weep !
  Howl, you drinkers of wine !—
For the sweet drink is cut from your mouth !
For a powerful people comes up to My land,
  Who cannot be numbered ;
  And with lion-like teeth ;
  And jaws like a tiger are theirs !
  They have wasted My vine,
  And have shattered My fig,
  And have stripped and exposed
  To the whiteness its twigs !

I weep like a girl who is clothed with a sack,
For the loss of the love of her youth !
The gift and the wine, from the Lord’s house is gone !
The Priests perish, who wait on the Lord !
The field grieves, — the ground mourns,— for the corn is destroyed ;
The wine-bunch is dry, and the olive tree pines.
  Faint, ploughmen,— and vinedressers wail !
    For the barley and wheat !—
    Harvest dies from the field !
    The Vine is scorched up,
    And the Fig-tree droops down ;
    And the Rimon, the Palm, and the Plum,
    With all trees of the field are dried up !
And pleasure is burnt from the children of men !

Come gird you, and mourn, all you Priests,
Let who serve at the Altar bewail !
Go ! lie down in sackcloth you servants of God, —
From God’s House is withheld bread and wine !
  Proclaim fasts ! Preach restraint !
  Let the elders collect,
  All who dwell in the land,
  At the House of the Lord,
  And cry to your God, — to the Lord !

Alas ! for the Day of the lord has come near !
And from the Almighty destruction has come !
  Are not our victuals cut off in our sight ?
  And laughter and joy from the House of our God ?
  The seeding is withered,
    Pants under the clods.
  The grain stores are ruins, —
    The corn has decayed !

  How the cattle are groaning !—
The flocks in the sheep pens are weeping !—
  For they have no food,
And the sheep flocks are wasted !
    So I cry to you, Lord, —
For fire burns up the grass on the pastures !
Flame has burnt all the trees of the land !
And to you low the cows in the field,
For the springs of the brooks are run dry,
And the fire has burnt up the grass of the pastures !

Transcribed by Alastair Aikman on 06-24-2015