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The Hurtful Tongue

¹ For the choirmaster. A Psalm of David. Hear, O God, my voice of complaint; preserve my life from dread of the enemy.² Hide me from the scheming of the wicked, from the mob of workers of iniquity,³ who sharpen their tongues like swords and aim their bitter words like arrows,⁴ ambushing the innocent in seclusion, shooting suddenly, without fear.⁵ They hold fast to their evil purpose; they speak of hiding their snares. “Who will see them?” they say.⁶ They devise injustice and say, “We have perfected a secret plan.” For the inner man and the heart are mysterious.

⁷ But God will shoot them with arrows; suddenly they will be wounded.⁸ They will be made to stumble, their own tongues turned against them. All who see will shake their heads.⁹ Then all mankind will fear and proclaim the work of God; so they will ponder what He has done.¹⁰ Let the righteous rejoice in the LORD and take refuge in Him; let all the upright in heart exult.