The Psalmes of David, from the New Translation of the Bible Turned into Meter To be Sung after the Old Tunes used in the Churches [by Henry King] |
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| II. |
| III. |
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| V. |
| VI. |
Psal. VI.
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| VII. |
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| XX. |
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| XXX. |
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| XL. |
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| LV. |
| LVI. |
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| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
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| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
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| XC. |
| XCI. |
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| C. |
| CI. |
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| CV. |
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| CIX. |
| CX. |
| CXI. |
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| CXV. |
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| CXVII. |
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| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
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| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
| CXXVII. |
| CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
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| CXXXIII. |
| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXV. |
| CXXXVI. |
| CXXXVII. |
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| CXL. |
| CXLI. |
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| CXLIII. |
| CXLIV. |
| CXLV. |
| CXLVI. |
| CXLVII. |
| CXLVIII. |
| CXLIX. |
| CL. |
 | The Psalmes of David, from the New Translation of the Bible Turned into Meter |  |
Psal. VI.
Rebuke me not O Lord in wrath,
Whose sinne deserv'd it hath:
Nor let thy hot displeasure burne,
Least I to nothing turne.
Have pitty Lord, for I am weak,
Asham'd my sinnes to speake.
O heale me, for my bones are vext,
My Soul with griefe perplext.
Whose sinne deserv'd it hath:
Nor let thy hot displeasure burne,
Least I to nothing turne.
Have pitty Lord, for I am weak,
Asham'd my sinnes to speake.
O heale me, for my bones are vext,
My Soul with griefe perplext.
How long shall I lament, and cry,
For my delivery?
O turne! and me to favour take,
For thine owne mercies sake.
Can he, who looses lifes short breath,
Remember Thee in death?
Or will the dust, and silence raise
A voyce to sound Thy praise?
For my delivery?
O turne! and me to favour take,
For thine owne mercies sake.
Can he, who looses lifes short breath,
Remember Thee in death?
Or will the dust, and silence raise
A voyce to sound Thy praise?
9
Weary, and faint, my soule bemoanes
Her vaine and fruitlesse groanes.
My bed the mark of sorrow weares,
Each night bedew'd with teares.
My fight is dimme, my melting eye
Clouded with misery.
I languish, through my haters rage,
Into untimely age.
Her vaine and fruitlesse groanes.
My bed the mark of sorrow weares,
Each night bedew'd with teares.
My fight is dimme, my melting eye
Clouded with misery.
I languish, through my haters rage,
Into untimely age.
Depart from me all wicked ones;
The Lord hath heard my moanes.
My voyce of weeping, and my teares
Sound lowdly in His eares.
God, who my supplication takes,
In Pardon answer makes.
When their despight, who me defame,
Shall cover'd be with shame.
The Lord hath heard my moanes.
My voyce of weeping, and my teares
Sound lowdly in His eares.
God, who my supplication takes,
In Pardon answer makes.
When their despight, who me defame,
Shall cover'd be with shame.
| The Psalmes of David, from the New Translation of the Bible Turned into Meter | |