Coverdale(i) 1 Now well than, I will synge my beloued frende a songe of his vynyearde. My beloued frende hath a vyneyearde in a very frutefull plenteous grounde. 2 This he hedged, this he walled rounde aboute, and planted it with goodly grapes. In the myddest of it buylded he a towre, and made a wyne presse therin And afterwarde when he loked yt it shulde bringe him grapes, it brought forth thornes. 3 I shewe you now my cause (o ye Citysens of Ierusalem and whole Iuda:) Iudge I praye you betwixte me: and my wynegardinge. 4 What more coude haue bene done for it, that I haue not done? Wherfore then hath it geuen thornes, where I loked to haue had grapes of it? 5 Well, I shall tell you how I will do wt my vynyarde: I will take the hedge from it, that it maye perish, and breake downe ye wall, that it maye be troden vnder fote. 6 I will laye it waist, that it shall nether be twysted nor cut, but beare thornes and breares. I wil also forbyd ye cloudes, that they shal not rayne vpon it. 7 As for the vynyarde of the LORDE of hoostes it is the house of Israel, and whole Iuda his fayre plantinge. Of these he loked for equyte, but se there is wronge: for rightuousnesse, lo, It is but misery.