From the wicked that destroy me, my deadly enemies, who compass me about.

The worker in wood stretcheth out a line; he marketh it out with red chalk; he formeth it with sharp tools, and he marketh it out with the compass, and maketh it after the figure of a man, according to the beauty of man: that it may remain in the house.

Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks: walk in the light of your fire, and among the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of my hand: ye shall lie down in sorrow.