הַוָּה

“Oh that my anguish were weighed, and all my calamity laid in the balances!

Is there injustice on my tongue? Can’t my taste discern mischievous things?

They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help.

For there is no faithfulness in their mouth. Their heart is destruction. Their throat is an open tomb. They flatter with their tongue.

They also who seek after my life lay snares. Those who seek my hurt speak mischievous things, and meditate deceits all day long.

Your tongue plots destruction, like a sharp razor, working deceitfully.

“Behold, this is the man who didn’t make God his strength, but trusted in the abundance of his riches, and strengthened himself in his wickedness.”

Destructive forces are within her. Threats and lies don’t depart from her streets.

Be merciful to me, God, be merciful to me, for my soul takes refuge in you. Yes, in the shadow of your wings, I will take refuge, until disaster has passed.

For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler, and from the deadly pestilence.