Blessed is the man unto whom Jehovah imputeth not iniquity, And in whose spirit there is no guile.
When I kept silence, my bones wasted away Through my groaning all the day long.
Jehovah, make me to know mine end, And the measure of my days, what it is; Let me know how frail I am.
He will cover thee with his pinions, And under his wings shalt thou take refuge: His truth is a shield and a buckler.
Let me sing for my wellbeloved a song of my beloved touching his vineyard. My wellbeloved had a vineyard in a very fruitful hill:
And they sing a new song, saying, Worthy art thou to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou was slain, and didst purchase unto God with thy blood (men) of every tribe, and tongue, and people, and nation,