Psalm LXIV.
1
Attend, O Lord, to my complaint,
And prayer that I make:
My life for fear of enemies
To thy protection take.
2
From secret plots of wicked men,
Be thou my hiding place:
And from the insurrections
Of this ungodly race.
3
Whose words are sharper than a sword,
And tongues like bows are bent:
To shoot their darts even bitter words
Against the innocent.
4
For secretly they take their aim,
At those that perfect are:
And suddenly against the just
They shoot and do not fear.
5
In evil matters and designs
They are extremely bold:
They talk of laying snares, and say
What Eye shall us behold?
6
They search and study how to bring
Their wicked plots about:
And no contrivance is so deep,
But they will find it out.
7
But God will shoot an Arrow soon,
And sorely wound them all:
And make their own malicious tongues
Upon themselves to fall.
8
Then all that see shall flee for fear,
And shall Gods work declare:
For wisely they shall meditate
How just his doings are.
9
The righteous shall in God rejoice,
And trust in him alone:
And upright men shall make their boast
Of all that he has done.
