For di director of music. Na psalm wey David write.
Di weapon here na mouth — tongue wey dem sharpen like sword, bitter word wey dem shoot from hiding at pesin wey no do anything, by people wey plan and sure say nobody fit see di plan. One arrow from our Papa answer am, and na dia own tongue bring dem down.
64 1Hear my voice, my Papa, as I dey cry my complain; guard my life comot from di terror of di enemy. 2Hide me comot from di secret plan wey di wicked people dey scheme, from di noisy crowd of dem wey dey do bad tin. 3Dem dey sharp dia tongue like sword; dem dey aim dia bitter words like arrow, 4make dem fit shoot from hiding place at di person wey no do anything bad; dem dey shoot am sharp-sharp and dem no dey fear. 5Dem hold dia evil plan tight; dem dey talk about how dem go hide trap and dem dey say, "Who go see dem?"
6Dem dey plan injustice and dem dey say, "We don make di plan perfect well-well." Di inside thought and heart of person deep well-well. 7But our Papa go shoot dem with arrow; sharp-sharp dem go wound. 8Dem go make dem stumble; dia own tongue go turn against dem; everybody wey see dem go shake dia head.
9Den everybody go fear; dem go talk about di work of our Papa and dem go think deep about wetin He don do. 10Make di correct-and-holy people rejoice for our Papa and take refuge for inside Am; make all di people wey get upright heart shout for joy!
