The snares of the wicked
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A song of ascents. “Often since my youth they have attacked me,” let Israel say.
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“Often since my youth they have attacked me, yet they have not defeated me.
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The plowers plowed on my back; they made their furrows long.
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Yahweh is righteous; he has cut the ropes of the wicked.”
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May they all be put to shame and turned back, those who hate Zion.
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May they be like the grass on the housetops that withers before it grows up,
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that cannot fill the reaper’s hand or the chest of the one who binds sheaves.
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May those who pass by not say, “May the blessing of Yahweh be on you; we bless you in the name of Yahweh.”
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