The Lord is my Rock, my walled town, and my saviour; my God, my Rock, in him will I put my faith; my breastplate, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.
Of David. My cry goes up to you, O Lord, my Rock; do not keep back your answer from me, so that I may not become like those who go down into the underworld.
I am troubled because of the voice of the cruel ones, because of the loud cry of the evil-doers; for they put a weight of evil on me, and they are cruel in their hate for me.
And again I saw all the cruel things which are done under the sun; there was the weeping of those who have evil done to them, and they had no comforter: and from the hands of the evil-doers there went out power, but they had no comforter.
Will a woman give up the child at her breast, will she be without pity for the fruit of her body? yes, these may, but I will not let you go out of my memory.