Psalm 139

To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.

1        O Lord, thou hast me search'd and known.

2                 Thou know'st my sitting down,

          And rising up; yea, all my thoughts

                   afar to thee are known.

3        My footsteps, and my lying down,

                   thou compassest always;

          Thou also most entirely art

                   acquaint with all my ways.

4        For in my tongue, before I speak,

                   not any word can be,

          But altogether, lo, O Lord,

                   it is well known to thee.

5        Behind, before, thou hast beset,

                   and laid on me thine hand.

6        Such knowledge is too strange for me,

                   too high to understand.

7        From thy Sp'rit whither shall I go?

                   or from thy presence fly?

8        Ascend I heav'n, lo, thou art there;

                   there, if in hell I lie.

9        Take I the morning wings, and dwell

                   in utmost parts of sea;

10      Ev'n there, Lord, shall thy hand me lead,

                   thy right hand hold shall me.

11      If I do say that darkness shall

                   me cover from thy sight,

          Then surely shall the very night

                   about me be as light.

12      Yea, darkness hideth not from thee,

                   but night doth shine as day:

          To thee the darkness and the light

                   are both alike alway.

13      For thou possessed hast my reins,

                   and thou hast cover'd me,

          When I within my mother's womb

                   inclosed was by thee.

14      Thee will I praise; for fearfully

                   and strangely made I am;

          Thy works are marv'llous, and right well

                   my soul doth know the same.

15      My substance was not hid from thee,

                   when as in secret I

          Was made; and in earth's lowest parts

                   was wrought most curiously.

16      Thine eyes my substance did behold,

                   yet being unperfect;

          And in the volume of thy book

                   my members all were writ;

          Which after in continuance

                   were fashion'd ev'ry one,

          When as they yet all shapeless were,

                   and of them there was none.

17      How precious also are thy thoughts,

                   O gracious God, to me!

          And in their sum how passing great

                   and numberless they be!

18      If I should count them, than the sand

                   they more in number be:

          What time soever I awake,

                   I ever am with thee.

19      Thou, Lord, wilt sure the wicked slay:

                   hence from me bloody men.

20      Thy foes against thee loudly speak,

                   and take thy name in vain.

21      Do not I hate all those, O Lord,

                   that hatred bear to thee?

          With those that up against thee rise

                   can I but grieved be?

22      With perfect hatred them I hate,

                   my foes I them do hold.

23      Search me, O God, and know my heart,

                   try me, my thoughts unfold:

24      And see if any wicked way

                   there be at all in me;

          And in thine everlasting way

                   to me a leader be.