How sweet unto my taste, O Lord, are all thy words of truth! Yea, I do find them sweeter far than honey to my mouth.
They more than gold, yea, much fine gold, to be desired are: Than honey, honey from the comb that droppeth, sweeter far.
Ev'n as with marrow and with fat my soul shall filled be; Then shall my mouth with joyful lips sing praises unto thee:
Moreover, they thy servant warn how he his life should frame: A great reward provided is for them that keep the same.