The Book of Psalms

In 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 warrior, With coals of the broom tree!

Woe is me, that I sojourn in Meshech, 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.