The .lxxiij. Psalme.
Howe
good is God to such as be, of hert perfect and pure:
Yet were my fete lyke for to slyp, my steppes were nothyng sure.
And why? Because I fondly fall, in enuie and disdayne:
To se that foles and wicked men haue peace and byde no payne.
They are in no daynger of deathe, nor lykely for to dye:
But do remayne excedyng strong and excedynge myghtie.
They are free frō aduersitie, when other men be shent:
And wyth the reste they take no parte, of plage or punishment.
Wherby they be full gloriously in pride so high extold:
And are in wronge and violence, wrapped so manyfold.
Theyr eies are solne for verie fat, they are so fallen awaye:
The vayne thoughtes of theyr wycked hert, they practise night and daye
By theyr wycked exemple are other men corrupted:
And the most myghti and high God, by them is blasphemed.
For they stretch out theyr mouth to heauē and do agaynst it crie:
But on the earth theyr wycked tonge, walketh most pleasantly.
The flocke therfore of flaterars, do furnish vp theyr trayne:
For there they be full sure to sucke some profite and some gayne.
Tush, tush say they, vnto them selues, is ther a God aboue?
That doth knowe and suffer this yll, & wyll vs not reproue?
Looe, ye maye se howe wycked men in richesse styll encrease:
Rewarded well wyth worldly goode, & lyue in rest and peace.
Than whye do I from wyckednes my fantasie refrayne?
And wash myne handes wyth innocentes, & clense myne hert in vayne?
And whye am I scourged ech daye, as subiect to all blame:
Or why should I euerie morne, sustayne rebuke and shame?
Than had I almost sayed as they, mislykyng myne estate:
But that I should thy chyldren iudge, as folke infortunate.
I me bethought (therfore) howe I myght thys thynge vnderstand:
But yet the laboure was to great, for me to take in hand.
Untyll the tyme I went into thyne holye place, and then:
I vnderstode right perfectly the ende of all these men.
And namely howe thou settest them vpon a slyppry place:
And at thy pleasure and thy wyll thou doest them all deface.
Than Lorde howe sone do they consume, and fearfully decaye:
Euen as a dreame when one waketh, their Image goeth awaye.
Thus greued was myne hert full sore, my mynde was much appreste:
So fonde was I and ignorant, and in thy syght a beaste.
Yet am I styll by the, and thou holdeste my right hand faste:
And wyth thy counsell doest guid me to glorie at the laste.
Bysyde thy selfe what thynge haue I, in all the heauens aboue:
To delyte in, syth in the earth I do the only loue.
My flesh and eke myne herte fayle me, so doeth my God neuer:
For of myne hert God is the strength, and my parte for euer.
And loe all such as the forsake, shal perishe euerichone:
And they that trust in any thynge saueynge in the alone.
But it is good for me (O God) to holde me faste by the:
And to put my full trust in the, and tell what thy worckes be.