The ground is cracked because no rain has fallen on the land. The farmers are ashamed; they cover their heads.
To You, O LORD, I call, for fire has consumed the open pastures and flames have scorched all the trees of the field.
Be dismayed, O farmers, wail, O vinedressers, over the wheat and barley, because the harvest of the field has perished.
Therefore the showers have been withheld, and no spring rains have fallen. Yet you have the brazen look of a prostitute;
The seeds lie shriveled beneath the clods; the storehouses are in ruins; the granaries are broken down, for the grain ha
I will break down your stubborn pride and make your sky like iron and your land like bronze,
All its soil will be a burning waste of sulfur and salt, unsown and unproductive, with no plant growing on it, just like
The sky over your head will be bronze, and the earth beneath you iron.