Where can I go to hide from your spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to the heavens, you are there; if I take my rest in the netherworld, you are also there.
You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am wonderfully made; awesome are your works, as I know very well.
Can a woman forget the infant at her breast; or feel no compassion for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you. Behold, I have inscribed your name on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before my eyes.