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Plea for Relief from Bitter Foes

A Song of Ascents.

120 In (A)my distress I cried to the Lord,
And He heard me.
Deliver my soul, O Lord, from lying lips
And from a deceitful tongue.

What shall be given to you,
Or what shall be done to you,
You false tongue?
Sharp arrows of the [a]warrior,
With coals of the broom tree!

Woe is me, that I dwell in (B)Meshech,
(C)That I dwell among the tents of Kedar!
My soul has dwelt too long
With one who hates peace.
I am for peace;
But when I speak, they are for war.

Footnotes

  1. Psalm 120:4 mighty one

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