For the music director, Jeduthun; a psalm of Asaph. I will cry out to God and call for help! I will cry out to God and he will pay attention to me.

A song, a psalm written by the Korahites; for the music director; according to the machalath-leannoth style; a well-written song by Heman the Ezrachite. O Lord God who delivers me! By day I cry out and at night I pray before you.

Then you spoke through a vision to your faithful followers and said: “I have energized a warrior; I have raised up a young man from the people.

Our ancestors in Egypt failed to appreciate your miraculous deeds, they failed to remember your many acts of loyal love, and they rebelled at the sea, by the Red Sea.

Indeed, the scepter of a wicked king will not settle upon the allotted land of the godly. Otherwise the godly might do what is wrong.

It is like the dew of Hermon, which flows down upon the hills of Zion. Indeed that is where the Lord has decreed a blessing will be available – eternal life.

May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, and do not give Jerusalem priority over whatever gives me the most joy.

I also thought to myself, “It is for the sake of people, so God can clearly show them that they are like animals.

Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these days?” for it is not wise to ask that.

When a sentence is not executed at once against a crime, the human heart is encouraged to do evil.

Divide your merchandise among seven or even eight investments, for you do not know what calamity may happen on earth.

If the clouds are full of rain, they will empty themselves on the earth, and whether a tree falls to the south or to the north, the tree will lie wherever it falls.

before the silver cord is removed, or the golden bowl is broken, or the pitcher is shattered at the well, or the water wheel is broken at the cistern –

For God will evaluate every deed, including every secret thing, whether good or evil.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Tell me, O you whom my heart loves, where do you pasture your sheep? Where do you rest your sheep during the midday heat? Tell me lest I wander around beside the flocks of your companions!

The Lover to His Beloved: If you do not know, O most beautiful of women, simply follow the tracks of my flock, and pasture your little lambs beside the tents of the shepherds.

The Beloved to Her Lover: Until the dawn arrives and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved – be like a gazelle or a young stag on the mountain gorges.

I arose to open for my beloved; my hands dripped with myrrh – my fingers flowed with myrrh on the handles of the lock.

Your neck is like a tower made of ivory. Your eyes are the pools in Heshbon by the gate of Bath-Rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon overlooking Damascus.

The Maidens about His Beloved: Who is this coming up from the desert, leaning on her beloved? The Beloved to Her Lover: Under the apple tree I aroused you; there your mother conceived you, there she who bore you was in labor of childbirth.