CXXXIX.
1
Thow hast me search'd and knoune, O Lord.
2
Whither I sitt or ryse
Thow notice takst, thow knowst afarre
Hidd in my hart what lyes.
3
My pathes, my lying doun thow eyest,
And narrow tryall takes.
Yea thow, O Lord, to all my wayes
Thyself familiar makes.
4
Lord, from my tonge no word doth flow,
My minde to manifest,
But (lo) thow altogither knowst
It, ere it be exprest.
5
Thow hem̄st me in each where; thy hand
To me thow forth dost streach;
6
Such knowledge wondrous is for me;
Farre, far above my reach.
7
Where from thy spirit shall I scaipe?
Where from thy presence flee?
8
To heaven if I ascend, the heavins
Thy habitation bee.
Hell if my bed I make, lo there
9
Thow art. Iff I should take
The morning's wings, aboade beyond
The furthest deeps to make,
10
Their also shall thy hand me lead,
Thy right hand hold me fast.
11
Or if the darknes should me shroude,
I did conclude at last,
Evin night shall be about me light;
12
No darknes hids from thee.
Night shines as day; to thee alike
Both light and darknes bee.
13
My reyns possest, O Lord, me hidd
In mother's wombe thow hast.
14
To celebrate thy praise, by me
Shal nevir be o'repast.
For how thow madst me while I muse,
Thence fearfull wonders flow.
Thy works (all) admiration breed,
This, weell my soule doth know.
15
My firmer substance scaipt thee not,
In secreet when forth broght
By thee; when in earth's lower pairts
I curiouslie was wroght.
16
My schaipeles masse thine eyes did view;
All written in thy booke
My members wer, whil none yet were,
In tyme which fashion tooke.
17
To me how dear thy thoghts! Their summe
How great! Ther compt to lay
18
The sand they should surpasse. Awakt,
Lord, I am with thee ay.
19
The wicked thow (in end), O God,
Assuredly wilt slay.
Yee, therfor, that delight in blood,
Far, far from me, away!
20
Their wicked projects to promove,
Of thee who mention make,
And, (foes profest to thee,) in vain
Thy name do (feareles) take;
21
Such, Lord, thy haters, do I not
With hatred deep despise?
How highlie am I greev'd with those
That dare against thee rise?
Such perfytlie I hate, with me
For foes sall such be found.
22
Search me, O God, and know my hart.
Me prove, the secreets sound,
23
Hidd in my thoghts. Sie, if in me
The wayes of sin̄e reside;
24
And in eternitie's pathway,
O Lord, thy servant lead.
