I want to sing a song for my friend,
my love song about his vineyard.
My friend had a vineyard on a fertile ridge.
He dug it and stoned it,
and planted it with choice vine.
He built a tower in the middle of it,
and also hewed a press in it.
He hoped it would make grapes,
but it made rotten grapes.
So now, population of Yerushalaim, people of Yehudah,
decide, please, between me and my vineyard.
What more was there to do for my vineyard,
and I didn’t do in it?
Why, when I hoped for it to make grapes,
did it make rotten grapes?
So now I want to let you know, please,
what I’m doing about my vineyard:
Remove its hedge, so it will be for burning up,
break down its wall so it will be for trampling,
so that I make an end of it.
It won’t be pruned and it won’t be hoed;
briar and thorn will grow.
I shall order the clouds not to send rain on it.
Because the vineyard of Yahweh of Armies
is the household of Yisra’el.
The people of Yehudah
are the planting in which he took pleasure.
He hoped for the exercise of authority,
but there – blood pouring out;
for faithfulness,
but there – a cry.
Goldingay, John The Bible for Everyone . SPCK. Kindle Edition.
Lord, you have given me so much,
I ask for one more thing –
a grateful heart.
George Herbert