The sun riseth, they are gathered, And in their dens they crouch.
And enter doth the beast into covert, And in its habitations it doth continue.
Thy crowned ones are as a locust, And thy princes as great grasshoppers, That encamp in hedges in a day of cold, The sun hath risen, and it doth flee away, And not known is its place where they are.
for every one who is doing wicked things hateth the light, and doth not come unto the light, that his works may not be detected;