Psalms 119

In my trouble I cried to the Lord: and he heard me. O Lord, deliver my soul from wicked lips, and a deceitful tongue. What shall be given to thee, or what shall be added to thee, to a deceitful tongue? The sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals that lay waste. Woe is me, that my sojourning is prolonged! I have dwelt with the inhabitants of Cedar: My soul hath been long a sojourner. With them that hated peace I was peaceable: when I spoke to them they fought against me without cause.
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