Psalm 16: Inheritance

Protect me, Lord my God,
For refuge I proceed,
“You are my Master,” says my soul,
Your goodness none exceeds.

Concerning, then, your saints,
The holy-ones of earth,
They are magnificent and pure,
For them, delight is birthed.

Those who chased after Baal,
Their sorrows will be great.
Never will I pour out blood,
Their very names I hate.

I will inherit You,
And You maintain my land,
The lines have fallen pleasantly,
An heir with good at hand.

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