¹⁹ Oh deliver not the soul of thy turtle-dove unto the wild beast: Forget not the life of thy poor for ever.

¹⁴ O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the steep place, Let me see thy countenance, Let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.

¹⁰ Thy congregation dwelt therein: Thou, O God, didst prepare of thy goodness for the poor.

⁵ Hearken, my beloved brethren; did not God choose them that are poor as to the world `to be' rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he promised to them that love him?

⁶ But ye have dishonored the poor man. Do not the rich oppress you, and themselves drag you before the judgment-seats?

¹⁶ Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.

¹² But I will leave in the midst of thee an afflicted and poor people, and they shall take refuge in the name of Jehovah.

⁸ Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as the doves to their windows?

⁹ My dove, my undefiled, is `but' one; She is the only one of her mother; She is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her, and called her blessed; `Yea', the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

¹ Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; Thine eyes are `as' doves behind thy veil. Thy hair is as a flock of goats, That lie along the side of mount Gilead.

² He will judge thy people with righteousness, And thy poor with justice.

¹³ When ye lie among the sheepfolds, `It is as' the wings of a dove covered with silver, And her pinions with yellow gold.

¹⁸ For the needy shall not alway be forgotten, Nor the expectation of the poor perish for ever.