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