To the chief musician; a psalm of David.{HR}Hear, O God, my voice in my meditation;{HR}From fear of the enemy thou wilt preserve my life.
Thou wilt hide me from the secret of evil-doers,{HR}From the tumult of workers of iniquity,
Who have sharpened like the sword their tongue,{HR}Have bent their arrow, a bitter word,
To shoot in the secret places at the perfect;{HR}Suddenly they shoot [at him] and fear not.
They strengthen to themselves an evil matter;{HR}They concert to hide snares;{HR}They have said, Who will see them?
They devise iniquities:{HR}We are ready (finished)! a well-devised device!{HR}And each one’s inward [thought] and heart [is] deep.
But God shall shoot at them:{HR}[With] an arrow suddenly the wounds have been theirs.
And they shall be made to stumble,{HR}Their own tongue against them;{HR}All that see them shall flee away.
And every man shall fear,{HR}And shall declare God’s doing,{HR}And his work they shall understand.
The righteous one shall be glad in Jehovah,{HR}And trust in him;{HR}And all the upright in heart shall glory.