Domine Deus. Ps.88.I.H.

The faithful sore afflicted by sickness, persecution, adversity, and as it were left of God without any consolation: yet call on God by faith, and strive against desperation.

The first part The second part
Lord God of health the hope and stay
thou art alone to me,
I call and cry throughout the day,
and all the night to thee.
 
2 O let my prayers soon ascend,
unto thy sight on high:
Incline thine ear, O Lord entend,
and hearken to my cry.
 
3 For why? my soul with woe is filled,
and doth in trouble dwell:
My life and breath almost doth yield,
and draweth nigh to hell.
 
4 I am esteemed as one of them,
that in the pit do fall:
And made as one among those men,
that have no strength at all.
 
5 As one among the dead and free
from things that here remain:
It were more ease for me to be,
with them the which were slain;
As those that lie in grave I say,
whom thou hast clean forgot:
The which thy hand hath cut away,
and thou regardst them not.
 
6 Ye like to one shut up full sure,
within the lower pit,
In places dark and all obscure,
and in the depth of it.
 
7 Thine anger and thy wrath likewise,
full sore on me doth lie:
And all thy storms against me rise,
my soul to vex and try.
 
8 Thou putst my friends far off from me,
and makest them hate me sore:
I am shut up in prison fast,
and can come forth no more.
 
9 My sight doth fail through grief and woe,
I call to thee O God,
Throughout the day, my hands also
to thee I stretch abroad.
10 Doest thou unto the dead declare,
thy wondrous works of fame?
Shall dead to life again repair,
and praise thee for the same?
 
11 Or shall thy loving kindness Lord,
be preached in the grave?
Or shall with them that are destroyed,
thy truth her honor have?
 
12 Shall they that lie in dark full low,
of all thy wonders wot?
Or there shall they thy justice know,
where all things are forgot?
 
13 But I O Lord, to thee alway,
do cry and call apace:
My prayer eke ere it be day,
shall come before thy face.
 
14 Why dost thou Lord abhor my soul,
in grief that seeketh thee?
And now O Lord, why dost thou hide
thy face away from me?
 
15 I am afflict as dying still,
from youth this many a year,
Thy terrors that do vex me ill
troubled mind I bear.
 
16 The furies of thy wrathful rage
full sore upon me fall
Thy terrors eke do not assuage,
but me oppress withal.
 
17 All day they ‘compass me about
as water at the tide:
And all at once with streams full stout
beset me on each side.
 
18 Thou settest far from me my friends,
and lovers everyone:
Yea, and mine old acquaintance all,
out of my sight are gone.

THE BOOK OF PSALMS

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