To God I cried in trouble’s bitter hour,
He heard my plea, from lying lips set free.
O tongue of guile, what waits thee, what great power?
Sharp arrows pierce, with coals thy end shall be.
Woe’s me, in Meshech’s tents, in Kedar’s land,
Too long I dwell where peace is cast aside.
My soul loves peace, but war’s their constant stand,
I speak of calm, they seek my harm to bide.
imaginate.pro 