Lord, in thine anger do not reprehend me,
Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;
Pity me, Lord, for I am much deject,
Am very weak and faint; heal and amend me,
For all my bones, that even with anguish ache,
And troubled, yea, my soul is troubled sore.
And thou, O Lord, how long? turn, Lord, restore
My soul, O save me for thy goodness sake,
For in death no remembrance is of thee;
Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise?
Wearied I am with sighing out my days,
Nightly my couch I make a kind of sea;
My bed I water with my tears; mine eye
Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark
I' the midst of all mine enemies that mark.
Depart, all ye that work iniquity,
Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping
The Lord hath heard; the Lord hath heard my prayer;
My supplication with acceptance fair
The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping.
Mine enemies shall all be blank and dashed
With much confusion; then grow red with shame;
They shall return in haste the way they came
And in a moment shall be quite abashed.
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