9 Thou, O God, didst send a plentiful rain, Thou didst confirm thine inheritance, when it was weary.
10 Thy congregation dwelt therein: Thou, O God, didst prepare of thy goodness for the poor.
11 The Lord giveth the word: The women that publish the tidings are a great host.
12 Kings of armies flee, they flee; And she that tarrieth at home divideth the spoil.
13 When ye lie among the sheepfolds, `It is as' the wings of a dove covered with silver, And her pinions with yellow gold.
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