Study Desk

For in the (O LORDE) is my trust, thou shalt heare me, O LORDE my God.

My desyre is, yt myne enemies triumphe not ouer me: for yf my fote slippe, they reioyse greatly against me.

For I cofesse my wickednesse, & my synne greueth me.

They that rewarde me euell for good, speake euell of me, because I folowe the thinge that good is.

And so I shut my mouth, whyle the vngodly layed wayte for me.

I kepe sylece, and open not my mouth, for thou hast done it. Turne thy plages awaye fro me, for I am cosumed thorow the feare of thy hade.

When thou punyshest man for synne, thou chastenest him: so that his beutie consumeth awaye, like as it were a mothe. O how vayne are all men?

Sela. Heare my prayer o LORDE, and considre my callinge: shewe not thy self as though thou sawest not my teares. For I am a straunger and pilgrymme with the, as all my forefathers were.

I wayted paciently for the LORDE, which enclyned himself vnto me, and herde my callinge.

Sacrifice and offeringe thou woldest not haue but a body hast thou ordeined me: burntofferynges and sacrifice for synne thou hast not alowed. Then sayde I: Lo, I come.

For innumerable troubles are come aboute me: my synnes haue taken soch holde vpon me, that I am not able to loke vp: yee they are mo in nombre then the hayres of my heade, and my hert hath fayled me.

As for me, I am poore & in mysery, but the LORDE careth for me.

I sayde: LORDE be mercifull vnto me, heale my soule, for I haue synned agaynst the.

Thou hast vpholden me because of my innocency, and set me before thy face for euer.

O blessed be ye LORDE God of Israel, from hece forth and for euermore. Amen, Amen.

Like as the hert desyreth the water brokes, so longeth my soule after the, o God. My soule is a thurste for God, yee eue for the lyuynge God: wha shal I come, & beholde the face of God?

Now when I thinke there vpo, I poure out my hert by my self: for I wolde fayne go hence with the multitude, & passe ouer with them vnto the house of God, in ye voyce of prayse & thankesgeuynge, amonge soch as kepe holy daye.

O put thy trust in God, for I wil yet geue him thankes, for the helpe of his countenauce.

Why art thou so heuy (o my soule) & why art thou so disquieted within me? O put thy trust in God, for I wil yet thanke him for the helpe of his countenaunce, and because he is my God.

For thou (o God) art my stregth: why hast thou shot me from the? Why go I then so heuely, whyle the enemie oppresseth me?