He also hath for him prepar'd the instruments of death; Against the persecutors he his shafts ordained hath.
God shall an arrow shoot at them, and wound them suddenly:
Thine arrows sharply pierce the heart of th' en'mies of the King; And under thy subjection the people down do bring.
Yea, he his arrows sent abroad, and them he scattered; His lightnings also he shot out, and them discomfited.
Cast forth thy lightning, scatter them; thine arrows shoot, them rout.
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:
For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, their shafts on string they fit, That those who upright are in heart they privily may hit.