To the overseer, Thou wilt not destroy, to David a poem in his fleeing from the face of Saul in the cave. Compassionate me, O God, compassionate me: for in thee my soul put trust, and in the shadow of thy wings I will put my trust till calamity shall pass by.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets, and stoning those sent to her; how often did I wish to gather thy children together, which manner a bird gathers together her young broods under the wings, and ye would not!
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets, and striking with stones those having been sent to her; how often I wished to gather thy children together, which manner a hen her young brood under the wings, and ye would not!
He will find him in the land of the desert, In a waste howling desolation: He will encompass him about; he will teach him, He will keep him as the pupil of the eye.