¶ 1 To the excelletn musician Ieduthun. A Psalme of David. Yet my soule keepeth silence vnto God: of him commeth my saluation.
3 How long wil ye imagine mischiefe against a man? ye shalbe all slaine: ye shalbe as a bowed wall, or as a wall shaken.
4 Yet they consult to cast him downe from his dignitie: their delight is in lies, they blesse with their mouthes, but curse with their hearts. Selah.
9 Yet the children of men are vanitie, the chiefe men are lies: to lay them vpon a balance they are altogether lighter then vanitie.
10 Trust not in oppression nor in robberie: be not vaine: if riches increase, set not your heart thereon.