And He sendeth His arrows and scattereth them, And much lightning, and crusheth them.

They are more desirable than gold, Yea, than much fine gold; and sweeter than honey, Even liquid honey of the comb.

Also -- from presumptuous ones keep back Thy servant, Let them not rule over me, Then am I perfect, And declared innocent of much transgression,

Much hast Thou done, Jehovah my God; Thy wonders and Thy thoughts toward us, There is none to arrange unto Thee, I declare and speak: They have been more than to be numbered.

Only -- He is my rock, and my salvation, My tower, I am not much moved.

I have been afflicted very much, O Jehovah, quicken me, according to Thy word.

Too much hath my soul dwelt with him who is hating peace.