For the music director; by David. In the Lord I have taken shelter. How can you say to me, "Flee to a mountain like a bird!

I stay awake; I am like a solitary bird on a roof.

We escaped with our lives, like a bird from a hunter's snare. The snare broke, and we escaped.

He rained down meat on them like dust, birds as numerous as the sand on the seashores.

I keep track of every bird in the hills, and the insects of the field are mine.

For they do not speak the truth; their stomachs are like the place of destruction, their throats like an open grave, their tongues like a steep slope leading into it.

Then our sons will be like plants, that quickly grow to full size. Our daughters will be like corner pillars, carved like those in a palace.