The yoke of my transgressions is bound by his hand; They are knit together, they are come up on my neck; he has made my strength to fail: The Lord has delivered me into their hands, against whom I am not able to stand.
The city is empty. It is now sitting solitary. The inhabitants have either been slain or carried away captive. There is a weird silence over this once prosperous, beautiful city, as it lies there now in rubble.