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