A pilgrimage song. Of David. / / /
LORD, my heart isn't proud;
my eyes aren't conceited.
I don't get involved with things too great or wonderful for me.
No. But I have calmed and quieted myself / my soul
like a weaned child on its mother;
I'm like the weaned child on me.
Israel, wait for the LORD --
from now on until forever from now!
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