Though ye have lien among the pots, like doves ye shall appear, Whose wings with silver, and with gold whose feathers covered are.
With gold and silver brought them forth, weak in their tribes were none.
For God doth pleasure take in those that his own people be; And he with his salvation the meek will beautify.
His shoulder I from burdens took, his hands from pots did free.
Unto the multitude do not thy turtle's soul deliver: The congregation of thy poor do not forget for ever.