2 As nothing, have my steps slipped, For I have been envious of the boastful,
3 The peace of the wicked I see, That there are no bands at their death,
4 And their might [is] firm.
5 In the misery of mortals they are not, And with common men they are not plagued.
6 Therefore hath pride encircled them, Violence covereth them as a dress.
7 Their eye hath come out from fat. The imaginations of the heart transgressed;
8 They do corruptly, And they speak in the wickedness of oppression, From on high they speak.
