A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem.

1 From my earliest youth my enemies have persecuted me. Let all Israel repeat this:

2 From my earliest youth my enemies have persecuted me, but they have never defeated me.

3 My back is covered with cuts, as if a farmer had plowed long furrows.

4 But the Lord is good; he has cut me free from the ropes of the ungodly.

5 May all who hate Jerusalem be turned back in shameful defeat.

6 May they be as useless as grass on a rooftop, turning yellow when only half grown,

7 ignored by the harvester, despised by the binder.

8 And may those who pass by refuse to give them this blessing: “The Lord bless you; we bless you in the Lord’s name.”