Let me sing for my well beloved a song of my beloved about his vineyard. My beloved had a vineyard on a very fruitful hill.
He dug it up, Gathered out its stones, Planted it with the choicest vine, Built a tower in its midst, And also cut out a winepress therein. He looked for it to yield grapes, But it yielded wild grapes.
Now, inhabitants of Yerushalayim and men of Yehudah, Please judge between me and my vineyard.
What could have been done more to my vineyard, that I have not done in it? Why, when I looked for it to yield grapes, did it yield wild grapes?
Now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will take away its hedge, and it will be eaten up. I will break down its wall of it, and it will be trampled down.
I will lay it a wasteland. It won't be pruned nor hoed, But it will grow briers and thorns. I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain on it.
For the vineyard of the LORD of Hosts is the house of Yisra'el, And the men of Yehudah his pleasant plant: And he looked for justice, but, behold, oppression; For righteousness, but, behold, a cry of distress.