In the hardening of dust into hardness, And clods cleave together?

Among rocks, brooks he hath cleaved, And every precious thing hath his eye seen.

The voice of leaders hath been hidden, And their tongue to the palate hath cleaved.

If my step doth turn aside from the way, And after mine eyes hath my heart gone, And to my hands cleaved hath blemish,

To my skin and to my flesh Cleaved hath my bone, And I deliver myself with the skin of my teeth.

And puttest in the stocks my feet, And observest all my paths, On the roots of my feet Thou settest a print,

And she forgetteth that a foot may press it, And a beast of the field tread it down.

A stream hath broken out from a sojourner, Those forgotten of the foot, They were low, from man they wandered.

Eyes I have been to the blind, And feet to the lame am I.

On the right hand doth a brood arise, My feet they have cast away, And they raise up against me, Their paths of calamity.

If I have walked with vanity, And my foot doth hasten to deceit,

He doth put in the stocks my feet, He doth watch all my paths.'