The Psalmes of David Translated Into Lyrick-Verse according to the scope, of the Original. And Illustrated, with a Short Argument, and a breife Prayer, or Meditation; before, & after, every Psalme. By George Wither |
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 | The Psalmes of David Translated Into Lyrick-Verse |  |
Psal. 88.
[_]
A song or Psalm for the Sonns of Chorah, to the cheef Musitian vpon Mahalath Leanoth Maschil of Heman, the Ezrahite. It personates Christ & his members complaining of his & their sorrowes, contempts & suffrings &c. And it is full of passionate petitions & expostulations. We may vse it in private or Publike afflictions.
[1]
Lord, of whose assisting might,I was never yet denied;
All the day, & all the night,
I, to thee have call'd & cried:
Now, regard my wofull plight.
2
Let thine Ear, thy Minde, thine Eyes,To the dropping, pleading, cryeng;
Of my Teares, my Cause, my Cries,
Grant me, hearing, weighing, eyeng;
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3
I, to Death am drawing nigh,And am priz'd as one interred;
Like a strengthles man I lye,
As algeady slaine, and buried:
Free among the dead, am I.
4
Yea, as one forgot of thee,(Or, as from thy hand Abiected)
Darksome pitts, my lodging be,
And in Dungeons deep afflicted,
Thy strict hand oppresseth mee.
5
All thy, waves I doe sustaine,Thou dost make my Lovers flee mee;
And my freinds fro me restarine:
Shutt I am, where none cann free me,
Then, how cann I tears refraine?
6
Lord, my greefs to thee I showe,With my hands to thee vp-raised.
Cann the dead thy wonders knowe?
Or thy Love or truth be praised,
By the Sonns of Death belowe?
7
Caan, thy Marvailes, they vnfold,Who in darknes, quite are blinded?
Or thy Iustice, there be tolde,
Where, is nothing said or minded,
Which was done in times of olde.
8
Vnto thee, oh Lord I crie,And, my suites prevent the Morninge;
Oh! why dost thou cast me by?
Still fro mee thy presence turninge,
Who am greev'd, & like to dy?
9
Fro my youth oh Lord, till now,Mee, thy terror hath destressed,
Nigh distract, it makes me grow;
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And, thy feares have brought me lowe.
10
They, besett me ev'rie day,Floud-like, flowing alltogether;
And no freinds, to help me, stay
(Lovers, nor Familiers neither)
For, thou driv'st them all away.
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