And those seeking my soul lay a snare, And those seeking my evil Have spoken mischievous things, And they do deceits meditate all the day.
My brethren from me He hath put far off, And mine acquaintances surely Have been estranged from me.
He lieth in wait in a secret place, as a lion in a covert. He lieth in wait to catch the poor, He catcheth the poor, drawing him into his net.
The wicked have laid a snare for me, And from thy precepts I wandered not.
The proud hid a snare for me -- and cords, They spread a net by the side of the path, Snares they have set for me. Selah.
Keep me from the gin they laid for me, Even snares of workers of iniquity.
I have been forgotten as dead out of mind, I have been as a perishing vessel.
For they speak not peace, And against the quiet of the land, Deceitful words they devise,
They are ashamed and blush, those seeking my soul, Turned backward and confounded, Those devising my evil.
Mine enemies say evil of me: When he dieth -- his name hath perished!
For strangers have risen up against me And terrible ones have sought my soul, They have not set God before them. Selah.
For zeal for Thy house hath consumed me, And the reproaches of Thy reproachers Have fallen upon me.
Mine eye hath grieved because of affliction, I called Thee, O Jehovah, all the day, I have spread out unto Thee my hands.
All the brethren of the poor have hated him, Surely also his friends have been far from him, He is pursuing words -- they are not!