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A SONG OF THE ASCENTS. I lift up my eyes to the hills, || From where does my help come? My help [is] from YHWH, || Maker of the heavens and earth, He does not permit your foot to be moved, || He who is preserving you does not slumber. Behold, He does not slumber, nor sleep, || He who is preserving Israel. YHWH [is] He who is preserving you, || YHWH [is] your shade on your right hand, By day the sun does not strike you, || Nor the moon by night. YHWH preserves you from all evil, || He preserves your soul. YHWH preserves your going out and your coming in, || From now on—even for all time!