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Here is Jonadab son of Rechab will have his sons drink no wine, and his word holds; wine they drink none to this day, for love of their father’s rule; and I, that send word early to your doors, can win no obedience. (Jeremiah 35, 14)
So they had their way with Jeremias; he should be left helpless in the cistern of Melchias the son of Amelech,✻ there in the court where the prisoners were kept. Into the cistern they lowered him with ropes; there was no water in it now, only mire, and into the mire he sank. (Jeremiah 38, 6)
None that turns his face towards Egypt for refuge but sword or famine or pestilence shall be the undoing of him; such calamity I mean to bring on it as none shall survive, none shall escape. (Jeremiah 42, 17)
Sacrifice when we women make to the queen of heaven, and pour libation to her, be sure our men-folk know in whose honour cake is made, and wine is poured! (Jeremiah 44, 19)
Since those first days of his, ever was Moab too rich; he, that knew not exile, is like a wine that has settled on its lees, never decanted; tang and reek of it were never lost; (Jeremiah 48, 11)
a time is coming now, the Lord says, when I mean to send certain stewards of mine that shall tilt those jars; draw wine, drain goblet, and break jar to pieces! (Jeremiah 48, 12)
Senseless let him fall, that once for the divine power vaunted himself a match; a laughing-stock let him be, that once, vomiting over his wine, clapped hands (Jeremiah 48, 26)
From the garden-lands of Moab joy and triumph have died away; all the presses I have emptied of their wine, no vintage-song, no treading the grapes as of old. (Jeremiah 48, 33)
From the toils escaped, who turns to Hesebon for shelter? Helpless he stands; such a fire comes out from Hesebon, all Seon’s capital aflame, till cheek and head of blustering Moab are consumed. (Jeremiah 48, 45)
Of all I had, the Lord has taken away the noblest; lost to me, all the flower of my chivalry, under his strict audit; Sion, poor maid, here was a wine-press well trodden down! (Lamentations 1, 15)
Listen, how they ask where all the bread and wine is gone to! Wound they have none, yet there in the open streets you shall see them faint away, sighing out their lives on their mothers’ bosoms. (Lamentations 2, 12)
Ours to buy the very water we drink, pay a price for every stick of fire-wood; (Lamentations 5, 4)
