14 lines
1.2 KiB
Plaintext
14 lines
1.2 KiB
Plaintext
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Psalms.
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Chapter 58.
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For the Chief Musician. To the tune of “Do Not Destroy.” A poem by David. Do you indeed speak righteousness, silent ones? Do you judge blamelessly, you sons of men?
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No, in your heart you plot injustice. You measure out the violence of your hands in the earth.
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The wicked go astray from the womb. They are wayward as soon as they are born, speaking lies.
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Their poison is like the poison of a snake, like a deaf cobra that stops its ear,
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which doesn’t listen to the voice of charmers, no matter how skillful the charmer may be.
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Break their teeth, God, in their mouth. Break out the great teeth of the young lions, Yahweh.
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Let them vanish like water that flows away. When they draw the bow, let their arrows be made blunt.
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Let them be like a snail which melts and passes away, like the stillborn child, who has not seen the sun.
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Before your pots can feel the heat of the thorns, he will sweep away the green and the burning alike.
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The righteous shall rejoice when he sees the vengeance. He shall wash his feet in the blood of the wicked,
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so that men shall say, “Most certainly there is a reward for the righteous. Most certainly there is a God who judges the earth.”
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