No one calls on your name or strives to lay hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us and have given us over to our sins.
Yet you, LORD, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.
Do not be angry beyond measure, LORD; do not remember our sins forever. Oh, look on us, we pray, for we are all your people.
Your sacred cities have become a wasteland; even Zion is a wasteland, Jerusalem a desolation.
Our holy and glorious temple, where our ancestors praised you, has been burned with fire, and all that we treasured lies in ruins.
After all this, LORD, will you hold yourself back? Will you keep silent and punish us beyond measure?