University of Virginia Library

Psalme. Cxxxviii. Confitebor tibi.

I wyll geue thanks, to thee O Lord
Wyth heart & mynde alwayes:
Before the Gods, wyll I reioyce


and syng vnto thy prayse.
I wyll drawe neare, thyne holy place
Thy great goodnes recorde:
Thy name to prayse, and thee worshyp
For thy truths sake, O Lorde.
When I dyd call, vpon thy name
My voyce thou hardst with spede:
And dydst sucker, sende to my soule
In the tyme of my nede.
Thy name by thy, most glorious powre
Thou hast so magnifed:


And thy most holy, and blessed worde
Aboue all thynges extolled.
The Kyngs and rulers on the earthe
Shal thee honour and prayse:
For they the wordes, of thine owne mouth
Haue hearde in all their dayes.
Yea they shall synge, and muche reioyce
And in thy wayes accorde:
That great is the, glory and powre
Of thee theyr God and Lord.


The Lorde frō heauen, doth cast hys eyes
vpon the lowely sect:
As for the proude, he doth dyspyse
And them cleane out reiect.
Though sorowe and care, do me compas
And trouble me oppresse:
Yet shalt thou by, thy powre and myght
Me strayght agayne refreshe.
Thou shalt stretch forth, thy hand on them
The furiousnes confounde:
Of myne enmyes, and thy ryght hande
Shall kepe me safe and sounde.
The Lorde hys promys, wyll performe


Of hys greate goodnes sure:
Thy mercy Lorde, that is so greate
For euer doth indure.
Dyspyse not then, we the desyre
Nor do not Lorde forsake:
The worckmāshyp, of thyne owne hands
For thou Lorde dydst vs make.
This Psalme the vvayes, of the vvycked
And the vngodly trayne:
Doth by theyre frutes iudge them to be
Most damnable and vayne.