The Book of Psalms

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 hate peace I was peaceable: when I spoke to them they fought against me without cause.