They crush olives within their walls; they tread the winepresses, but go thirsty.
Look, the wages you withheld from the workmen who mowed your fields are crying out against you. The cries of the harvest
“Woe to him who builds his palace by unrighteousness, and his upper rooms without justice, who makes his countrymen serv
Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain.