PsalmsChapter 64

For the choirmaster. A psalm of David.
Hear my voice, O God, as I pour out my complaint; guard my life from the terror of the enemy.
Hide me from the secret plots of the wicked, from the raging mob of evildoers,
who sharpen their tongues like swords and aim their arrows—bitter words—
to shoot from ambush at the innocent; suddenly they shoot, and feel no fear.
They spur each other on in evil; they talk of laying hidden snares and say, "Who will ever see them?"
They search out ways to do wrong: "We have perfected our secret plan!" For the inner thoughts of a man run deep.
But God shoots his arrow at them; suddenly they fall wounded.
Their own tongues turn against them and bring them down; all who see them shake their heads.
Then everyone stands in awe; they proclaim the work of God and ponder what he has done.
Let the righteous rejoice in the LORD and take refuge in him; let all the upright in heart exult.