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Take the heads of the people

Hang them up before the lord

Against the sun

The fierce anger

Of the lord

May be turned away

Is it good unto thee

Thou shalt oppress me

Thou should despise the work of thine hands

And shine upon the counsel of the wicked

It is drawn

The glittering sword

Cometh out of the body

Terrors are upon him

Mark me, and be astonished

Lay your hand upon thy mouth

They shall be brought forth

To the day of wrath

By his spirit he hath garnished

The heavens

His hand hath formed

The crooked serpent

He hath unleashed the waters of iniquity

Until the day and night

The stones of darkness, the shadow of death

Come to an end

Take the heads of the people

Hang them up before the lord

Against the sun

The fierce anger

Of the lord

May be turned away

Is it good unto thee

Thou shalt oppress me

Thou should despise the work of thine hands

And shine upon the counsel of the wicked

Lo thou hath set his eyes against my soul

And let loose his arrows

He stretcheth out thy hand

And hang the earth upon nothing