3 Because of th' en'my's voice, and forlewd men's oppression great:On me they cast iniquity,and they in wrath me hate.
4 Sore pain'd within me is my heart:death's terrors on me fall.
5 On me comes trembling, fear and dreado'erwhelmed me withal.
6 O that I, like a dove, had wings,said I, then would I fleeFar hence, that I might find a placewhere I in rest might be.
7 Lo, then far off I wander would,and in the desert stay;
8 From windy storm and tempest Iwould haste to 'scape away.
9 O Lord, on them destruction bring,and do their tongues divide;For in the city violence and strife I have espy'd.