XLIV.
1
Wee with our ears haue heard, O God,
Our fathers haue ws told
What great things in their dayes thou didst,
In ancient tymes of old.
2
How them thow planted by thine hand,
The heathens quite cast out;
How thow the people didst afflict,
And them madst spring and sprout.
3
For, by their oune suord, to enjoy
The land attaind they not;
Nor by the strength of their own arme,
Salvation they gott.
But thy right hand it was, thine arme,
And countenance's light,
This broght to passe, by reasoun they
Found favour in thy sight.
4
Tis thow, O God, who art my king:
Deliverance com̄and
5
For Jacob. With the horne through thee,
Who to distresse ws stand
Push doun wee shall: evin through thy name,
Tread wnder foot shall wee
All such as risen wp for war,
Our foes are
found to be.
6
For in my bow I will not trust,
Nor saftie in my sword
7
Will I repose. Tis thow hast sav'd
Ws from our foes, (O Lord);
Thow hast our haters putt to shame.
8
Our glory all the day
Shal be in God; yea, to thy name
Prayse wee will ever pay.
9
But, (ah,) now dost thow cast ws off,
And bringst on ws disgrace;
Thow with our airmies gost not forth,
Whence foes we dare not face.
10
Our haters ws at pleasure spoyle,
While wee before them flie;
11
Like sheep for meit givin o're, dispersd,
We mongst the nations bee.
12
Thow sell'st thy people at no price,
And thus not richer art.
13
Wnto our neighbours a reproach,
Expos'd in evrie part;
Who duell about ws, with proud scoffs,
With scorne, do ws invade;
14
A byword to the heathen groune,
The peoples' mockage made.
15
All day mine ignominy is
Before me; shame of face
16
Hath covered me becaus of those
Who load me with disgrace;
Who taunts vnto my troubles adde;
By reasoun of the foe
17
And self-avenger. Lord, all this
To ws from thee doth flow,
Yet thee forgottin have wee not,
Not dealt deceatfully
18
Have in thy covenant. Our hearts
From turning back are free;
Our steps depairt not from thy pathes;
19
Tho' bruis'd ws sore thow hast,
And, (cov'red with the shade of death,)
In deeps mid'st dragons plac't.
20
Should wee forgett our God's great name,
Our hands to strange gods rayse;
21
This would not Hee search out, the heart's
Hid secrets who surveyes?
22
Yea, kild for thee wee are all day,
Are held as slaughter[d] sheep.
23
Stir wp thy self for ws, O Lord,
What time is now to sleep?
Ryse, cast ws not for ever off.
24
Thy face why dost thow hide?
That greeved and opprest we are,
Why owt of minde let slide?
25
To dust our soul's bow'd doun; to earth
Our bellie fast doth cleaue.
26
Rise, for our help, redeeme ws, (Lord,)
Of mercie ws releeue.
