Deliver thyself as a roe from the hand of the hunter, and as a bird from the hand of the fowler.
In the Lord put I my trust: how say ye to my soul, Flee as a bird to your mountain?
Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers: the snare is broken, and we are escaped.
Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice.