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    You’ve made your choice.
        You’ve thrown in your lot with idols and smooth stones in dark ravines,
    Wining and dining strange gods with offerings of drink and grain.
        And you expect Me to tolerate this?

    You’ve made your bed in the “sacred places,”
        given offerings, and made prayers on high and lofty mountains.
    You declare your obedience to Me, but all hidden away—as if I couldn’t see;
        behind the very door and doorpost, you set up your shrine.
    You turned your back on Me and snuck off to be intimate with other deities;
        you made promises to them and bound yourself to them all tight and close.

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