CXLIII.
1
My prayr heare, O Lord,
My sute do not deny;
Grant, in thy treuth and righteousnes,
A gratious reply.
2
Lord, with thy servant deall
Not as a judge seveire;
For in thy sight no living soule
Shall justified apeare.
3
O heare, for sore sett on
My soule is by my foe;
He smitten hath wnto the ground,
And broght my lyfe full low;
As these by [death] devored,
Long since from sight of man,
Enforc'd I am myselfe to shroude
In darknes' dreirie denn.
4
My sprits weill neire spent,
To fainting place have given.
My hart within me wondrously
Is to amazment dreavin.
5
Back to the dayes of old
Then streght my thoghts doe run̄.
Thy works I muse on, and revowe
What earst thy hands have done.
6
Befor the are spread forth
My hands. My soule for thee
Longs as the thristy land for raine.
7
Mak hast to answer me.
My sprit faills, O Lord;
Doe not withdraw thy face,
Of these who to the grave goe doune
Lest I the steps do trace.
8
Thy loveing kyndnes cause
Me in the morneing heare,
For in the doe I trust: The way
Mak wnto me apeare,
The way which I must keep.
I lift my soule to thee.
9
From foes me scheild; to thee alone
For schelter saife I flee.
10
Teach me, O Lord, thy will
By practise to obey.
My God thow art, thy Sprit good
Let be my guyd allway,
Me saifly in the land
Of righteousnes to lead.
11
Wnto thy servant lyfe restore,
I, for thy name's sake, plead.
12
Lord, in thy righteousnes,
My soule from straits sett frie;
Mine adversaryes overthrow,
Of thy benignity.
To my distressed soule,
Afflictioune who afford,
Destructioune on them bring, for I
Thy servant am, O Lord.
