Psalms.
119.
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.