1. Listen and help, O God.I’m reduced to a whineAnd a whimper, obsessedwith feelings of doomsday.
2-6. Don’t let them find me—the conspirators out to get me,Using their tongues as weapons,flinging poison words,poison-tipped arrow-words.They shoot from ambush,shoot without warning,not caring who they hit.They keep fit doing calisthenicsof evil purpose,They keep lists of the trapsthey’ve secretly set.They say to each other,“No one can catch us,no one can detect our perfect crime.”The Detective detects the mysteryin the dark of the cellar heart.
7-8. The God of the Arrow shoots!They double up in pain,Fall flat on their facesin full view of the grinning crowd.
9-10. Everyone sees it. God’swork is the talk of the town.Be glad, good people! Fly to God!Good-hearted people, make praise your habit.