8 Keep me as the apple, the daughter of the eye; In shadow of Thy wings thou dost hide me.
9 From the face of the wicked who spoiled me. Mine enemies in soul go round against me.
10 Their fat they have closed up, Their mouths have spoken with pride:
11 'Our steps now have compassed 'him';' Their eyes they set to turn aside in the land.
12 His likeness as a lion desirous to tear, As a young lion dwelling in secret places.
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