The whole Psalter translated into English Metre :: :: University of Virginia Library

The whole Psalter translated into English Metre

which contayneth an hundreth and fifty Psalmes

Parker, Matthew (1504-1575)

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111

[illeg.]usto[illeg.]

Whan Dauid sawe the world so bad: Gods men for truth to scorne,
To God in hart complaynt he had: his tonge in silence borne.

I full decreed my wayes to wayte: least I in tong myght erre,
To stop my mouth with mosell strayt: nye me while sinners were.

By silence long, euen dom I was: from truth I helde my peace:
It fret me sore good thinges to passe: my griefes so dyd not cease.

My hart within was set on heate: thus musing fire it tooke:
My tong brake out, some thyng to treate: then silence I forsooke.

Tell me myne ende O Lord I sayd: what number haue my dayes:
That I may know how long dismayd: I here shall lyue in frayes.

My dayes lo thou at fyngers hast: a span in brede they bee,
My life to thee as nought is cast: lyues man whole vanitie.

In shadow darke mans walke is set: in broyle he toyleth in vayne:
He heapth and heapth and knowth not yet: who reape shall all hys payne

Now thē O Lord what loke I for? while men thus earth do wrote
My hope no dout thou art in store: thou art my health and bote.

To scape thy rod deliuer me: from myne offences quite:
And make me not a scorne to be: to men of folishe spite.

Lord dom I layd in patience: not once my mouth to ope:
For this thou dydst by prouidence: to proue my fayth and hope.

Remoue thy scourge from me to flye: by sinne I know deserued,
Thy hand so smart hath spent me nye: be I yet (Lord) preserued.

For when for sinne thou scourgest man: by plages down sent fro the
As cloth by mothe, hys soule doth wan: all men then britle be.

Heare Lord my sute, and harke my cry: not deafely heare my teares
For Pilgrim strange with thee I lye: as were my fathers yeares.

O spare me then, that I my strength: recouer may therfore:
Before I go from hence at length: and after seene no more.