For, lo, those far from Thee do perish, Thou hast cut off every one, Who is going a whoring from Thee.

For He hideth me in a tabernacle in the day of evil, He hideth me in a secret place of His tent, On a rock he raiseth me up.

Thou dost rule them with a sceptre of iron, As a vessel of a potter Thou dost crush them.'

He lieth in wait in a secret place, as a lion in a covert. He lieth in wait to catch the poor, He catcheth the poor, drawing him into his net.

Thou makest us a reproach to our neighbours, A scorn and a reproach to our surrounders.

To the Overseer. -- 'On the Lilies.' -- By sons of Korah. -- An Instruction. -- A song of loves. My heart hath indited a good thing, I am telling my works to a king, My tongue is the pen of a speedy writer.

To the Overseer. -- By sons of Korah. 'For the Virgins.' -- A song. God is to us a refuge and strength, A help in adversities found most surely.

As if a friend, as if my brother, I walked habitually, As a mourner for a mother, Mourning I have bowed down.