The whole Psalter translated into English Metre :: :: University of Virginia Library

Here is a mone: most piteous,
of man afflicte in stresse:
It payntes Christes death: most dolorous,
hys sepulture in flesh.

Domine Deus.

My louyng Lord: and God of grace,
on whom my health dependth:
Both day and night: before thy face,
my crye I haue extend.

O let therfore: my prayer soone
come now before thy sight:
Inclyne thyne eare: and heare my bone,
with teares which I endight.

243

My soule is full: of miseries,
in woes full gorgd I rore:
My lyfe in sight: to all mens eyes,
is euen at death hys dore.

As one of them: I am esteemd,
that tumble must in pit:
A sely man: I am but deemd,
so voyde of strength I sit.

As free (from toyle) among the dead,
as wounded slepe in graue:
Who far from mynd: be sonke as lead,
whom slayne thy handes now haue.

In pit most deepe: thou hast me throwne,
in deathes and hels dispayre,
In places darke: down low bestown,
where commth no lyght nor ayre.

Thy fury Lord: lyeth hard on me,
oh stiffe on euery side:
And vext thou hast: both hart and eye,
wyth all thy stormes full tryde.

Sela.

Thou hast driuen far: my frendes from me,
acquaynted most to see:
Abhord of them: thou madest me be,
thus bound I cannot flee.

My sight doth fayle: for heauines,
to thee Lord yet I cry:
No day from thee: Lord would I cease,
to lift my handes full hye.

244

Thy meruels great: wylt thou deuise,
to worke to buried men?
Or els shall sprites: to lyfe aryse,
thy laudes to sound agayne?

Sela.

Or shall my graue: thy pitie tell,
when once thou hast me slayne?
Or shall thy truth: be proued so well,
when I destroyd am layne?

Thy wondrous workes: which wrought thy hand,
Shall darkenes them expresse?
Or shall thy iustice shyne in land,
of mere forgetfulnes?

To thee O Lord: my prayer went,
to whom els should I go?
Yea still my sute: shall thee preuent,
at morne while lastth my wo.

Why than O Lord: abhorst my soule,
all helpe from me to wynde?
Why hidest thy face: from me so whole,
that I no grace can fynde?

Afflict I am: at poynt to dye,
from youth thus haue I bene:
In hart astound: thy dreades fele I,
so fearefull they be sene.

Thy sower wrathes: so multiplied,
hane ouerwhelmed me:
Thy terrours eke: which sore abyde,
haue stroyd me whole to see.

245

They daily did: passe ouer me,
as water surges hye:
They compasd me: in certenty,
euen round about full nye.

Both frend and kinne: from me full far,
thou hast put whole away:
My frendes that were: familiar,
in darke fro me they stray.