No Place Dey Wey Im Hand No Fit Reach
For di director of music. Na psalm wey David sing.
No place dey wey dey outside wetin im Papa know — heaven, grave, di oda side of di sea, or darkness wey come turn out sey e no dark. Dat one join di womb, where dem knit di writer together. E end am by inviting di search: know my heart.
139 1You don search me, my Papa, and you sabi me well well. 2You sabi wetin I dey do wen I sidon and wen I stand up; you dey read my mind from far away. 3You dey watch my road and my rest, and you sabi all my ways well. 4Even before word comot for my mouth, you don sabi am finish, my Papa. 5You surround me for back and for front, and you put your hand on top me. 6Dis kind knowledge too wonderful for me; e too high, I no fit reach am.
7Wia I fit go comot from your Spirit? Wia I fit run go hide from your presence? 8If I climb go heaven, you dey dia; if I lie my bed for grave, you dey dia. 9If I ride di wings of di mornin light and go stay for di far side of di sea, 10even dia your hand go lead me, and your right hand go hold me tight. 11If I talk say, “For sure darkness go cover me, and di light wey surround me go turn to night,” 12even di darkness no dark for your eye; di night dey shine like day, because darkness be like light to you.
13Na you make my inside part; you weave me togeda for my mama belle. a a v13 Our Papa dey personally make and sabi every person from di belle — no life dey wey jus happen by mistake. 14I dey praise you, because dem make me for fear and wonderful way; your works dey wonderful, and my soul sabi am well well. 15My body no hide from you wen dem make me for secret place, wen dem weave me fine fine for di deep part of di earth. 16Your eye see me wen my body neva form finish; all my days dem write for your book and dem arrange am for me, before even one of dem reach. 17How dear your thoughts dey to me, my Papa! Dem plenty pass count! 18If I try count dem, dem go pass di sand for number. Wen I wake, I still dey wit you.
19If only you go kill di wicked pipo, my Papa! Comot from me, una wey dey thirst for blood! 20Dem dey talk about you wit bad mind; your enemies dey use your name anyhow. 21My Papa, no be dem wey hate you I dey hate? No be dem wey rise up against you I no fit stand? 22I hate dem wit complete hatred; I count dem as my enemies.
23Search me, my Papa, and sabi my heart; test me and sabi my thoughts wey dey worry me, 24and see if any bad way dey inside me, and lead me for di way wey no dey end.
