For, lo, they for my soul lay wait: the mighty do combine Against me, Lord; not for my fault, nor any sin of mine.
They meet, they lurk, they mark my steps, waiting my soul to kill.
Those men that do without a cause bear hatred unto me, Than are the hairs upon my head in number more they be: They that would me destroy, and are mine en'mies wrongfully, Are mighty: so what I took not, to render forc'd was I.
Yea, they that seek my life lay snares: who seek to do me wrong Speak things mischievous, and deceits imagine all day long.
Kings of the earth do set themselves, and princes are combin'd, To plot against the Lord, and his Anointed, saying thus,
Who in their heart mischievous things are meditating ever; And they for war assembled are continually together.