7 Whither do I go from Thy Spirit? And whither from Thy face do I flee?
8 If I ascend the heavens -- there Thou 'art', And spread out a couch in Sheol, lo, Thee!
9 I take the wings of morning, I dwell in the uttermost part of the sea,
10 Also there Thy hand doth lead me, And Thy right hand doth hold me.
11 And I say, 'Surely darkness bruiseth me, Then night 'is' light to me.
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