The whole Psalter translated into English Metre which contayneth an hundreth and fifty Psalmes |
 |
| 1. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 2. |
| 2. |
Psalme. LI.
|
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
|
|
|
 | The whole Psalter translated into English Metre |  |
147
Psalme. LI.
The Argument.
A prayer pure and forme full good,for penitentes so meeke:
Thus Dauids hart: enbrued wyth bloud,
hys God for grace dyd seeke.
1
Haue mercy God: on me I craue,for thy great gentlenes:
Thy mercies store on me vouchsaue,
put out my sinfulnes.
2
But washe me depe: from all my sinne,for deepely falne I am:
O clense me clere: wythout, wythin,
from synne that beastly came.
3
For I confesse: my wyckednes,my state I fele most vyle:
In sight I beare: my giltines,
it doth myne eye reuyle.
4
To thee alone: I trespaced,I sind before thyne eyes:
That iust in word: thou mightst be tryed,
thou iudge so pure to ryse.
5
Behold in sinne: I shapen was,in natyue filth infect:
My mother me: conceyud alas,
in sinne of Adams sect.
148
6
But lo thou hast: the truth well loued,in hart alway to raigne:
Thys wisdome hid: to few approued,
thou shewest to me most playne.
7
Thou shalt me purge wyth Isope grene,so clensd, men me shall know:
Thou shalt me washe: to be full clene,
more whyte than is the snow.
8
Thou shalt make me: much ioye to heare,and rest for all my payne:
My shaken bones shall them besteare,
and ioye then once agayne.
9
From my misdedes: turne thou thy face,I cannot say to oft:
From out thy bookes: my gilt O rase,
to feele thy mercy soft.
10
Apuer hart: make thou in me,O God both good and true:
A rightful sprite: wythin to be,
my soule agayne renue.
11
From open sight of thy swete face,O Lord reiect me not:
Withdraw not thou: thy sprite of grace,
from me so desolate.
12
Thy ioyfull health: restore wyth all,to me thus tost wyth wo:
Wyth sprite most free: and principall,
strength me agayne to go.
149
13
Then wyll I teache: thy wayes for ryght,to all the wycked sort:
That they to the: conuerted quyte,
for comfort may resort.
14
Ryd me from all: bloudgiltines,thou God my God of health:
My tonge shal sing: thy ryghteousnes,
and iust condemne my selfe.
15
O Lord my lips: set open wyde,in thankes to make them free:
So shall my mouth: on euery side,
geue laudes most due to thee.
16
For thou regardst: no sacrifice,I would els geue it thee:
Nor yet requirst: by law precise,
our offrings brent that bee.
17
The sacrifice: to God elect,is iust a troubled sprite:
Good God thou wylt: no tyme reiect
a broken hart contrite.
18
O shew thy grace: and fauour yet,to Syon Dauids throne:
Ierusalem: that citie great,
build thou her wals of stone.
19
Then ryghteous hostes: thou shalt allow,whole offrings burnt in sight:
Wyth sacrifice: of calfe and cow,
they shall thyne aulters dyght.
| The whole Psalter translated into English Metre | |