Only Version ❧ CM · 8·6·8·6
To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.
1 O God, when I my prayer make, my voice then do thou hear; also do thou preserve my life safe from the en’my’s fear. 2 And from the secret counsel of the wicked hide thou me: from the insurrection of them that work iniquity.
3 Who have their tongue now sharpened like as it were a sword; and bend their bows to shoot their shafts ev’n the most bitter word: 4 That they in secrecy may shoot the perfect man to hit: suddenly do they shoot at him, and never fear a whit.
5 Themselves they in a matter ill encourage; how they may lay snares in secret, thus they talk; who shall them see? they say. 6 They do search out iniquity, a search exact they keep: both inward thought of every man also the heart is deep.
7 But God shall shoot at them a shaft, be sudden their wound shall. 8 So that they shall make their own tongue upon themselves to fall, all that see them shall flee away. 9 All men shall fear, and tell the works of God, for his doing they shall consider well.
10 The just shall in the Lord be glad, and trust in him he shall: and they that upright are in heart in him shall glory all.