No Place Dey Wey Im Hand No Fit Reach
For di director of music. Na psalm wey David write.
139 1 You don search me well, my Papa, and you sabi me. 2 You sabi wen I sidon and wen I stand up; you dey understand wetin I dey think from far. 3 You dey search my road and my rest, and you sabi all my ways well well. 4 Even before word reach my tongue, you don sabi am finish, my Papa. 5 You surround me, for back and for front, and you put your hand on top me. 6 Dis kind sabi too wonderful for me; e high pass me, I no fit reach am.
7 Which place I fit go comot from your Spirit? Which place I fit run comot from your presence? 8 If I climb go heaven, you dey there; if I make my bed for inside grave, you dey there. 9 If I ride di wings of morning-light and go stay for di far side of di sea, 10 even for there your hand go lead me, and your right hand go hold me tight. 11 If I talk say, “For sure di darkness go cover me, and di light wey surround me go turn to night,” 12 even di darkness no dark for you; di night dey shine like di day, because darkness be like light for you.
13 Na you make di inside part wey deep for me; na you weave me join for my mama belle. a a v13 Our Papa dey personally make and sabi every person from inside belle — no life dey wey just happen by mistake. 14 I praise you, because di way you make me dey make person fear and wonder; your work dem wonderful, and my soul sabi am well well. 15 My body-frame no hide from you wen dem make me for secret place, wey dem weave with care for di deep part of di earth. 16 Your eyes see my body wen e never form finish; all my days dey written for inside your book and dem don set am for me, before even one of dem come happen. 17 How your thoughts dem dey precious to me, my Papa! How dem plenty reach! 18 If I fit count dem, dem go pass di sand wey dey for ground plenty. Wen I wake up, I still dey with you.
19 If only you go kill di wicked people, my Papa! Comot from me, una wey dey thirst for blood! 20 Dem dey talk about you with bad mind; your enemies dey use your name anyhow. 21 Abi I no dey hate those wey hate you, my Papa? Abi I no dey feel disgust for those wey rise up against you? 22 I hate dem with complete hate; I count dem as my enemies.
23 Search me, my Papa, and know my heart; test me and know di thoughts wey dey worry me. 24 and see if any bad way dey for inside me, and lead me for di way wey no dey end.
