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| XL. |
| XLI. |
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| XLIII. |
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| XLV. |
| XLVI. | The .xlvi. Psalme. |
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| XLIX. |
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| LXVI. |
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| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
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| LXXX. |
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| XC. |
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| CXLIX. |
| CL. |
 | The Psalter of David newely translated into English metre in such sort that it maye the more decently, and wyth more delyte of the mynde, be reade and songe of al men, wherunto is added a note of four partes, wyth other thynges, as shall appear in the Epistle to the Reader [by Robert Crowley] |  |
The .xlvi. Psalme.
God
is our refuge and our strēgth in all our miserie:
And a moste present succour in our great aduersitie.
And a moste present succour in our great aduersitie.
Wherfore we wyll not feare thoughe the earth moue out of hir place:
And though the hylles emydde the sea, do threate to falle apase.
And though the hylles emydde the sea, do threate to falle apase.
Yea though the waues therof shoulde rage and forowe vp the slyme:
And make the greate hylles tremble when they do agaynst them clyme:
And make the greate hylles tremble when they do agaynst them clyme:
Yet shal the streames of the ryuer styll refreshe goddes Citie:
And the holye place of the tentes, of the Lord God moste hye.
And the holye place of the tentes, of the Lord God moste hye.
God is in the myddle therof, wherfore it shall not fall:
He shall helpe it before it do take any harme at all.
He shall helpe it before it do take any harme at all.
Let the heathē styr vp tumultes, & kyngdomes make styrrynges:
And let the earth breake in sunder, wyth passynge greate criynges:
And let the earth breake in sunder, wyth passynge greate criynges:
Yet doth the Lorde of hostes styll stande faste by vs at oure nede:
Iacobs God is our stronge tower and oure defence in dede.
Iacobs God is our stronge tower and oure defence in dede.
Come hyther and beholde the worckes of the Lorde wyth your eyne:
What wonders he hath wrought on earth, thorowe his powre diuine.
What wonders he hath wrought on earth, thorowe his powre diuine.
To the vtmost partes of the earth, all warres he appeaseth:
He breaketh bowes, he shreddeth speares, & charettes he burneth.
He breaketh bowes, he shreddeth speares, & charettes he burneth.
Send backe and acknowledge that I am the Lorde God alone:
Moste hygh emonge the nations, on earth lyke me is none.
Moste hygh emonge the nations, on earth lyke me is none.
The Lord of hostes is on our syde, he doeth styll take our parte:
Iacobs God is our high castell, he wyll not from vs starte.
Iacobs God is our high castell, he wyll not from vs starte.
| The Psalter of David newely translated into English metre in such sort that it maye the more decently, and wyth more delyte of the mynde, be reade and songe of al men, wherunto is added a note of four partes, wyth other thynges, as shall appear in the Epistle to the Reader [by Robert Crowley] | |