A song of degrees. Of Dawiḏ.
1 O 𐤉𐤄𐤅𐤄, my heart has not been proud,
Nor have my eyes been haughty. Neither have
I concerned myself with great matters,
Nor with those too wondrous for me.
2 Have I not calmed, and kept my being silent,
Like one weaned by its mother?
My being is like one weaned.
3 O Yisra’ĕl, wait for 𐤉𐤄𐤅𐤄,
Now and forever.