O Lord, you have searched me out and known me; *
you know my sitting down and my rising up; you understand my thoughts from afar.
You examine my path and my places of rest, *
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Indeed, there is not a word on my tongue, *
but you, O Lord, know it altogether.
You have enclosed me behind and before, *
and have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, *
so excellent I cannot attain to it.
Where shall I go then from your Spirit, *
or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I climb up to heaven, you are there; *
if I make my bed in the grave, you are there also.
If I take the wings of the morning *
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there shall your hand lead me, *
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,” *
then shall my night be turned to day.
Even the darkness is not dark to you, and the night is as clear as the day; *
the darkness and the light to you are both alike.
For you yourself made my inmost parts; *
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I will give thanks to you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; *
marvelous are your works, and my soul knows it very well.
My bones were not hidden from you *
when I was made in secret and fashioned in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes beheld my substance, while I was yet unformed; *
and in your book were all my members written,
Which day by day were fashioned, *
when as yet there was none of them.
How dear to me are your thoughts, O God. *
How great is the sum of them!
If I were to count them, they would be more in number than the sand. *
When I wake up, I am present with you.