PSALMS.
Chapter 129.
A song for pilgrims going up to Jerusalem. Many enemies have attacked from the time I was young. Let everyone in Israel say: 
Many enemies have attacked from the time I was young, but they never defeated me. 
They beat me on my back, leaving long furrows as if it had been plowed by a farmer. 
But the Lord does what is right: he has cut me free from the ropes of the wicked. 
May everyone who hates Zion be driven back in humiliating defeat. 
May they be like grass that grows on a roof that withers before it can be harvested, 
There's not enough even for a reaper to hold, not enough even for the binder to bind. 
May passers-by not say to them, “The blessing of the Lord be on you; we bless you in the name of the Lord.” 
