Your eyes say my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them. How preciou also are Your thoughts to me,
O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand; when I awake, I am still with You. Oh, that You would slay the wicked, O God! Depart
from me, therefore, you bloodthirsty men. For they speak against You wickedly; Your enemies take Your name in vain.
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