University of Virginia Library



The .xi. Psalme.

In the Lorde haue I put my truste, how to my soule saye ye:
Oute of youre mount euen as the byrd, se that thou awaye flee?
For lo, the wycked bent their bowe, and set their shaftes therin:
That in the darcke they myght shote them, that in herte do not synne.
Seynge the nettes be broke therfore, and the lawes set at nought:
What coulde the iust man do therin, though he toke care and thought?
But the Lorde in his holy place hath hys throne in heauen:
His eyes beholde, and his eye leddes do serch the sonnes of men.
The Lorde alloweth the iuste man, but he hateth deadly:
The wycked, and suche as do loue force and iniquitie.
Upon the wycked he wyll rayne snares, fyre and brymstone:
And eke a stormye burninge wynde, thys is their lotte eche one.
Because the Lorde him selfe is iuste, he loueth ryghteousnes:
And with hys countenaunce he wyl loke vpon the gitles.