- 1 Lord in thy wrath reprove me not,
- though I deserve thine ire:
- Nor yet correct me in thy rage,
- O Lord, I thee desire:
-
- 2 For I am weak, therefore, O Lord,
- of mercy me forbear:
- And heal me Lord, for why? thou knowest,
- my bones do quake for fear.
-
- 3 My soul is troubled very sore,
- and vexed vehemently:
- But Lord how long wilt thou delay
- to cure my misery?
-
- 4 Lord turve thee to thy wonted grace,
- my silly soul up take:
- O save me not for my deserts,
- but for thy mercies sake.
-
- 5 For why? no man among the dead
- remembreth thee one whit.
- Or who shall worship thee, O Lord,
- in the infernal pit?
-
- 6 So grievous is my ‘plaint and moan,
- that I wax wondrous faint:
- All the night long I wash my bed,
- with tears of my complaint.
-
- 7 My sight is dim, and waxeth old,
- with anguish of my heart:
- For fear of those that be my foes,
- and would my soul subvert.
-
- 8 But now away from me all ye,
- that work iniquity:
- For why? the Lord hath heard the voice
- of my complaint and cry.
-
- 9 He heard not only the request,
- and prayer of my heart:
- But it received at my hand,
- and took it in good part.
-
- 10 And now my foes that vexed me
- the Lord will soon defame:
- And suddenly confound them all,
- to their rebuke and shame.
