Psalm LXIX.
1
Save me, O God; the waters rise,
And I in mire sink down:
The mighty floods surrounded me so,
That I am overflown.
2
I weary am with crying out,
My throat is hoarse and dry:
My eyes do fail with looking up
To God for remedy.
3
My enemies than the very hairs
Upon my head are more:
And what I never took from them,
They forc'd me to restore.
4
But, Lord, to thee I will appeal,
My innocence to clear:
Before whose eyes my secret faults,
And follies all appear.
5
Grant for my sake, O Lord of hosts,
That none that wait on thee,
May of their hope and confidence,
Ashamed ever be.
6
Because I for thy sake alone,
Reproach and shame have born:
And to my brethren am become
A mere contempt and scorn.
7
The zeal that to thy house I bore,
Hath me to nothing brought:
And I by such as thee blaspheme
Am scorn'd and set at nought.
8
When I for grief did fast and weep,
They did but scorn and mock:
And when I did in sackcloth go,
I was their laughing stock.
9
They that were sitting in the gate,
At me reproaches flung:
Yea songs of me about the town,
The very drunkards sung.
10
But in an acceptable time,
My prayer I will make:
Hear then, and save me, O my God,
For thy good promise sake.
11
Deliver me out of the mire,
And me from sinking keep:
Save me from them that hate my soul,
And from the waters deep.
12
The water floods to swallow me,
O Lord, do not permit:
Nor let me sink into the deep,
Nor fall into the pit.
13
O hear me for thy goodness sake;
Turn, Lord, and me behold,
According to thy wonted grace,
And mercies manifold.
14
Hide not thy face when trouble comes,
But hear me speedily:
Redeem me from my enemies,
And to my soul draw nigh.
15
My shame, dishonour, and reproach
Are known, O Lord, to thee:
And who my adversaries are,
Thou dost observe and see.
16
Reproach and grief have broke my heart,
And when I looked round,
And sought for some to pity me,
No comforter was found.
17
So spiteful were my enemies,
For meat they gave me gall:
And vinegar to quench my thirst,
When I for drink did call.
18
Lord, let their table be their snare,
A trap their plenty make:
With blindness ever smite their eyes,
And make their loins to shake.
19
Pour out thy fury on their heads,
And seize them in their sin:
Make all their houses desolate,
And none to dwell therein.
20
For him whom thou hast smitten down,
They persecute the more:
And vex them with malicious words,
Whom thou didst wound before.
21
O let them fall from sin to sin,
Till mercy find no place:
And blot them from the book of life,
Among the wicked race.
22
But I am poor and sorrowful;
Lord raise me up on high:
That I in songs of thanks and praise,
Thy name may magnifie.
23
For praises are such offerings,
As best the Lord will please:
No bullock that hath horns and hoofs,
Can be compar'd to these.
24
At this the humble shall rejoyce,
And all that seek the Lord;
Who never scorns the prisoners cry,
But doth the poor regard.
25
O let the heavens praise the Lord,
The earth, and sea so deep:
And every thing that moves therein;
For he will Sion keep.
26
The Lord will Judah's cities build,
And fill with men the same:
His servants seed shall them possess,
And they that love his name.
