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Lo! God is hiy in his strengthe, and noon is lijk hym among the yyueris of lawe.

Who mai seke out the weies of God? ethir who dar seie to hym, Thou hast wrouyt wickidnesse?

Alle men seen God; ech man biholdith afer.

Lo! God is greet, ouercomynge oure kunnyng; the noumbre of hise yeeris is with out noumbre.

God schal thundre in his vois wondurfulli, that makith grete thingis and that moun not be souyt out.

Whanne God makith blowyng, frost wexith togidere; and eft ful brood watris ben sched out.

Joob, herkene thou these thingis; stonde thou, and biholde the meruels of God.

Whethir thou woost, whanne God comaundide to the reynes, that tho schulen schewe the liyt of hise cloudis?

Gold schal come fro the north, and ferdful preisyng of God.

whanne the morew sterris herieden me togidere, and alle the sones of God sungun ioyfuli?

Who makith redi for the crowe his mete, whanne hise briddis crien to God, and wandren aboute, for tho han not meetis?

For God hath priued hym fro wisdom, and `yaf not vnderstondyng to hym.

Whether he, that stryueth with God, schal haue rest so liytli? Sotheli he, that repreueth God, owith for to answere to hym.

And if thou hast an arm, as God hath, and if thou thundrist with lijk vois, `take thou fairnesse aboute thee,

He is the bigynnyng of the weies of God; he, that made hym, schal sette his swerd to hym.

The membris of hise fleischis ben cleuynge togidere to hem silf; God schal sende floodis ayens hym, and tho schulen not be borun to an other place.

Forsothe aftir that the Lord spak these wordis to Joob, he seide to Eliphat Themanytes, My stronge veniaunce is wrooth ayens thee, and ayens thi twey frendis [Note: God seith not ayenus Helyu, ether ayenus Joob; for whi to do synne bi presumpcioun, ether bi vnwar speking, as Helyu and Joob diden, is not so greuouse synne as to do synne bi afermyng of falsnesse, which bifelde to these thre men. for he synnede liytly, and dide penaunce therfor perfitly. ]; for ye `spaken not bifor me riytful thing, as my seruaunt Joob dide.

many men rysen ayens me. Many men seien of my soule, Noon helthe is to hym in his God.

I schal not drede thousyndis of puple cumpassynge me; Lord, rise thou vp; my God, make thou me saaf. For thou hast smyte alle men beynge aduersaries to me with out cause; thou hast al to-broke the teeth of synneris.

The title of the fourthe salm. `To the victorie in orguns; the salm of Dauid. Whanne Y inwardli clepid, God of my riytwisnesse herde me; in tribulacioun thou hast alargid to me.