The Hurtful Tongue

1To the Overseer. -- A Psalm of David. Hear, O God, my voice, in my meditation, From the fear of an enemy Thou keepest my life,

2Hidest me from the secret counsel of evil doers, From the tumult of workers of iniquity.

3Who sharpened as a sword their tongue, They directed their arrow -- a bitter word.

4To shoot in secret places the perfect, Suddenly they shoot him, and fear not.

5They strengthen for themselves an evil thing, They recount of the hiding of snares, They have said, 'Who doth look at it?'

6They search out perverse things, 'We perfected a searching search,' And the inward part of man, and the heart are deep.

7And God doth shoot them with an arrow, Sudden have been their wounds,

8And they cause him to stumble, Against them is their own tongue, Every looker on them fleeth away.

9And all men fear, and declare the work of God, And His deed they have considered wisely.

10The righteous doth rejoice in Jehovah, And hath trusted in Him, And boast themselves do all the upright of heart!