Let not my wrongful enemies proudly rejoice o'er me; Nor who me hate without a cause, let them wink with the eye.
Psalm 69:4 - Psalms of David in Metre 1650 (Scottish Psalter) 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. Tuilleadh leaganachaKing James Version (Oxford) 1769 They that hate me without a cause are more than the hairs of mine head: They that would destroy me, being mine enemies wrongfully, are mighty: Then I restored that which I took not away. Amplified Bible - Classic Edition Those who hate me without cause are more than the hairs of my head; those who would cut me off and destroy me, being my enemies wrongfully, are many and mighty. I am [forced] to restore what I did not steal. [John 15:25.] American Standard Version (1901) They that hate me without a cause are more than the hairs of my head: They that would cut me off, being mine enemies wrongfully, are mighty: That which I took not away I have to restore. Common English Bible More numerous than the hairs on my head are those who hate me for no reason. My treacherous enemies, those who would destroy me, are countless. Must I now give back what I didn’t steal in the first place? Catholic Public Domain Version May those who wish evils upon me be turned back and blush with shame. May they be turned away immediately, blushing with shame, who say to me: "Well, well." Douay-Rheims version of The Bible - 1752 version Let them be turned backward, and blush for shame that desire evils to me: Let them be presently turned away blushing for shame that say to me: 'T is well, 't is well. |
Let not my wrongful enemies proudly rejoice o'er me; Nor who me hate without a cause, let them wink with the eye.
For ills past reck'ning compass me, and mine iniquities Such hold upon me taken have, I cannot lift mine eyes: They more than hairs are on mine head, thence is my heart dismay'd.
For, lo, they for my soul lay wait: the mighty do combine Against me, Lord; not for my fault, nor any sin of mine.
Mine eye, consum'd with grief, grows old, Because of all mine enemies.