| A | B |
|---|
| For you formed my inward parts; | you knitted me together in my mother's womb. |
| I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; | my soul knows it very well. |
| My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made . . . | . . . in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. |
| Your eyes saw my unformed substance; | in your book were written, |
| every one of them, the days that . . . | were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. |
| How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! | How vast is the sum of them! |
| If I would count them, | htey are more than the sand. |
| I awake, and I . . . | . . . am still with you. |
| Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God! | O men of blood, depart from me! |
| They speak against you with malicious intent; | your enemies take your name in vain. |
