SEVENTH ANTIPHONE

Wilt thou bring fine gold for a payment For sins on this wise? For the glittering of raiment And the shining of eyes, For the painting of faces And the sundering of trust, For the sins of thine high places And delight of thy lust?

For your high things ye shall have lowly, Lamentation for song; For, behold, I God am holy, I the Lord am strong; Ye shall seek me and shall not reach me Till the wine-press be trod; In that hour ye shall turn and beseech me, Saith the Lord God.