When those thugs try to knife me in the back, make them look foolish. Frustrate all those who are plotting my downfall. Make them like cinders in a high wind, with GOD’s angel working the bellows. Make their road lightless and mud-slick, with GOD’s angel on their tails. Out of sheer cussedness they set a trap to catch me; for no good reason they dug a ditch to stop me. Surprise them with your ambush— catch them in the very trap they set, the disaster they planned for me.
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