In my distress to God I cry'd,
and he gave ear to me.
From lying lips, and guileful tongue,
O Lord, my soul set free.

What shall be giv'n thee? or what
shall be done to thee, false tongue?
Ev'n burning coals of juniper,
sharp arrows of the strong.

Woe's me that I in Mesech am
a sojourner so long;
That I in tabernacles dwell
to Kedar that belong.

My soul with him that hateth peace
hath long a dweller been.
I am for peace; but when I speak,
for battle they are keen.