The Psalms

Hear my voice, O God, in my complaint; preserve my life from the dread enemy.

Hide me from the secret plots of the wicked, from the scheming of evildoers,

who whet their tongues like swords, who aim bitter words like arrows,

shooting from ambush at the blameless; they shoot suddenly and without fear.

They hold fast to their evil purpose; they talk of laying snares secretly, thinking, "Who can see us?

Who can search out our crimes? We have thought out a cunningly conceived plot." For the human heart and mind are deep.