Words: The Scottish Psalter
To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.
1 When I to thee my prayer make, Lord, to my voice give ear; My life save from the enemy, of whom I stand in fear.
2 Me from their secret counsel hide who do live wickedly; From insurrection of those men that work iniquity:
3 Who do their tongues with malice whet, and make them cut like swords; In whose bent bows are arrows set, ev'n sharp and bitter words:
4 That they may at the perfect man in secret aim their shot; Yea, suddenly they dare at him to shoot, and fear it not.
5 In ill encourage they themselves, and their snares close do lay: Together conference they have; Who shall them see? they say.
6 They have searched out iniquities, a perfect search they keep: Of each of them the inward thought, and very heart, is deep.
7 God shall an arrow shoot at them, and wound them suddenly: 8 So their own tongue shall them confound; all who them see shall fly.
9 And on all men a fear shall fall, God's works they shall declare; For they shall wisely notice take what these his doings are.
10 In God the righteous shall rejoice, and trust upon his might; Yea, they shall greatly glory all in heart that are upright.