A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem. 1
From my earliest youth my enemies have persecuted me.
Let all Israel repeat this:
From my earliest youth my enemies have persecuted me,
but they have never defeated me.
My back is covered with cuts,
as if a farmer had plowed long furrows.
But the LORD is good;
he has cut me free from the ropes of the ungodly.
May all who hate Jerusalem 
be turned back in shameful defeat.
May they be as useless as grass on a rooftop,
turning yellow when only half grown,
ignored by the harvester,
despised by the binder.
And may those who pass by
refuse to give them this blessing:
"The LORD bless you;
we bless you in the LORD's name."
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