University of Virginia Library

The .xxxj. Psalme.

O Lorde I trust in the alone, let me neuer haue naye:
Delyuer me in thy iustice, when I do to the praye.
Bowe downe thyne eare to me I saye, delyuer me outryght:
Be my defence and sure castell, to saue me by thy myght.
For thou art my rocke and sure ground & my defence at nede:
Wherfore for thy names sake leade me, and dryue me forth to fede.
Brynge me out of the net that they haue layed and hyd for me:
Because my myght and eke my strength, remayneth whole in the.
Into thyne handes I do cōmitte my soule vnfaynedly:
Thou haste redemed me, O Lorde, the God of veritie.
I haue hated all suche men as do folowe vanitie:


But in the Lorde I haue alwaye trusted vnfaynedly.
Of thy mercie I wyll reioyce, thou that lokest on my payne:
And that in my great miserie doeste not my soule disdayne.
Neyther haste shette me in the hande or powre of myne enmie:
But haste set my fote all at large, and at full libertie.
Be mercifull to me (O Lorde) for I am sore oppreste:
Myne eies dasle, and eke my soule and bealy take small reste.
Sorowe freateth my lyfe awaye, mournynge bryngth my laste daye:
My strength fayleth through wyckednes, al my bones waste awaye.
All my foes and enmies haue made, a raylynge stocke of me:
But chyeflye suche in verie dede as of my neyghbours be.
My fryndes & my famyliars haue hated me outright:
And when they sawe me come abroade, they fled out of my syght.
I was forgotten vtterly, as a man that is deade:
So was I made lyke a vessell, that longe sence perished.


I heard that many blamed me, and layde faultes to my charge
Feare and tremblyng stode aboute I myght not walcke at large.
Whylse they consulted togither, and dyd theyr wyttes employe:
Howe to inuent awaye to take my pore soule subtylly.
But I haue put my truste in yu (O Lorde) vnfaynedly:
And wyth myne herte thus haue I sayde, thou arte my God truly.
Lorde my lyfe dayes are in thyne hand, let me neuer be thrall:
Set thou me free from myne enmies & persequutours all.
Lyghten thy countenaunce vpō, thy pore seruant I saye:
And for thy mercifull goodnes, saue me wyth out delaye.
O Lorde let me not aske in vayne, because I call on the:
But let the wycked haue that shame, in the graue let them be.
Let lyeynge lyppes haue nought to saye, which speake most craftily:
And eke proudly agaynste the iuste, and most dispytfully.
Ryght large are the good thynges that thou dost kepe for them that be:


In thy feare, and that thou dydst in theyr syght that truste in the.
Under thy face thou shalt hyde them, frō all mens conspyrynge:
From the debate of tonges thou shalt hyde them in thy dwellynge.
The Lorde is worthy for to be praysed of olde and yonge:
For notably he shewed me hys mercie in a towne stronge.
When I fled hastily, I thought, I am caste of surely:
But thou heardst the voyce of my prayer, when I dyd to the crye.
All ye true seruantes of the Lorde, loue hym vnfaynedly:
Whoe doeth defende the faythfull and plage the proude plentuousely.
Be stronge and myghtie, for the Lorde wyl cause your herte be stronge:
So many of you as do trust in hym boeth olde and yonge.