Lord, keep me safely from the snares which they for me prepare; And from the subtile gins of them that wicked workers are.
The proud for me a snare have hid, and cords; yea, they a net Have by the way-side for me spread; they gins for me have set.
I err'd not from them, though for me the wicked snares did set.
Yea, they that seek my life lay snares: who seek to do me wrong Speak things mischievous, and deceits imagine all day long.
When in me was o'erwhelm'd my sp'rit, then well thou knew'st my way; Where I did walk a snare for me they privily did lay.
My heart is fix'd, my heart is fix'd, O God; I'll sing and praise.
Who do their tongues with malice whet, and make them cut like swords; In whose bent bows are arrows set, ev'n sharp and bitter words:
I look'd on my right hand, and view'd, but none to know me were; All refuge failed me, no man did for my soul take care.