Joel 1:4-12

What the chewing locust left, the gobbling locust ate; What the gobbling locust left, the munching locust ate; What the munching locust left, the chomping locust ate. Sober up, you drunks! Get in touch with reality—and weep! Your supply of booze is cut off. You’re on the wagon, like it or not. My country’s being invaded by an army invincible, past numbering, Teeth like those of a lion, fangs like those of a tiger. It has ruined my vineyards, stripped my orchards, And clear-cut the country. The landscape’s a moonscape. Weep like a young virgin dressed in black, mourning the loss of her fiancé. Without grain and grapes, worship has been brought to a standstill in the Sanctuary of GOD. The priests are at a loss. GOD’s ministers don’t know what to do. The fields are sterile. The very ground grieves. The wheat fields are lifeless, vineyards dried up, olive oil gone. Dirt farmers, despair! Grape growers, wring your hands! Lament the loss of wheat and barley. All crops have failed. Vineyards dried up, fig trees withered, Pomegranates, date palms, and apple trees— deadwood everywhere! And joy is dried up and withered in the hearts of the people.