Dixi custodiam
[Psalm] xxxix.
Iohn Hop.
Dauid vttereth with what great gref and bitternes of mind he was
driuen to these outragious complaynts of his infirmities, for he confesseth
that when he had determined sylence, that he brast forth yet in
to words that he woulde not, through the greatnes of his greef. Thē
he reherseth certayne requests which tast of infirmitie of man, & mixeth
with them many prayers but all to shew a mind wōderfully troubled,
that it may plainly appeare how he did stryue myghtlye agaynste deathe and desperatyon.
[_]
Sing this as the .xxxv. psalme.
[The first parte.]
I sayde
I will loke to my wayes,
For feare I should go wronge:
I will take heede all tymes that I,
Offend not in my tounge.
As with a bit I will kepe fast,
my mouth with force and might:
Not once to whisper all the whyle,
the wicked are in sighte.
I held my tonge and spake no word,
but kept me close and still,
Yea from good tallke I did refrayne,
but sore against my will.
My hart waxt whote within my brest,
with musing thought and doubte:
Whiche did encrease, and stire the fire,
at last these words brast oute.
Lorde, number oute my lyfe and dayes
whiche yet I haue not past:
So that I may be certifyed,
how long my lyfe shall laste,
Lorde, thou hast poynted oute my lyfe,
in length muche like a spanne:
Mine age is nothing vnto thee,
so vayne is euery man.
Man walketh lyke a shade, and doth
in vayne him self annoye,
In getting goods, and cannot tell,
who shall the same enioye.
Now lord sith things this wise do frame
what helpe doo I desire:
Of truth my helpe doth hange on thee,
I nothing elles require.
The secōd parte.
From all the sinnes that I haue done,
Lorde quyteme out of hand:
And make me not a scorne to fooles,
that nothing vnderstand.
I was as dumme, and to complayne,
no trouble might me moue:
Because I know it was thy worke,
my patience for to proue.
Lord take from me thy scourg & plage
I can them not withstande:
I faynt and pine away for feare,
of thy most heuy hand.
When thou for sinne dost man rebuke,
he waxeth wo and wanne:
As doth a clothe that mothes haue fret
so vayne a thyng is man.
Lord heare my sute and geue good hede
regarde my teares that fall
Soiourne like a straunger here
as did my fathers all.
Oh spare a litle geue me space,
my strength for to restore:
Before I go away from hence,
and shall be seene no more.
