I am the ma, that (thorow the rodd of his wrath) haue experiece of misery.

He droue me forth, and led me: yee into darcknesse, but not in to light.

Agaynst me only he turneth his honde, & layeth it euer vpon me.

My flesh & my skynne hath he made olde, and my bones hath he brussed.

He hath buylded rounde aboute me, & closed me in with gall and trauayle.

He hath set me in darcknesse, as they that be deed for euer.

He hath so hedged me in, that I can not get out, & hath layed heuy lynckes vpon me.

Though I crie & call piteously, yet heareth he not my prayer.

He hath stopped vp my wayes with foure squared stones, & made my pathes croked.

He layeth waite for me like a Bere, and as a lyon in a hole.

He hath marred my wayes, and broke me in peces, he hath layed me waist altogether.

He hath bent his bowe, and made me as it were a marck to shute at.

The arowes of his quyuer hath he shot, euen in to my reynes.

I am laughed to scorne of all my people, they make songes vpon me all ye daye loge.

He hath fylled me with bytternesse, & geuen me wormwod to drynke.

He hath smytten my teth in peces, & rolled me in the dust.

He hath put my soule out of rest, I forget all good thinges.

I thought in my self: I am vndone, there is no hope for me in the LORDE.

O remembre yet my mysery and my trouble, the wormwod and the gall.

Yee thou shalt remebre them, for my soule melteth awaye in me.

Whyle I cosidre these thinges in my hert, I get a hope agayne.

Namely, that the mercies of the LORDE are not clene gone, & that his louynge kyndnesse ceasseth not.

His faithfulnes is greate, and renueth it self as the mornynge.

The LORDE is my porcion (saieth my soule) therfore wil I hope in him.

O how good is the LORDE vnto the, that put their trust in him, and to the soule that seketh after him?

O how good is it with stilnesse to wate and tarie, for the health of the LORDE?

O how good is it for a man, to take the yock vpon him from his youth vp?

He sitteth alone, he holdeth him still. and dwelleth quietly by him self.

He layeth his face vpon the earth, yf (percase) there happen to be eny hope.

He offreth his cheke to the smyter, he will be content with reproues.

For the LORDE wil not forsake for euer.

But though he do cast of, yet (acordinge to ye multitude of his mercies) he receaueth to grace agayne.

For he doth not plage, & cast out the children of men from his herte.

To treade all the presoners of the earth vnder his fete.

To moue the iudgment of man before the most highest.

To condemne a man in his cause: The LORDE hath no pleasure in soch thinges.

What is he then that saieth: there shulde somthinge be done without the LORDES comaundement?

Out of the mouth of the most highest goeth not euell and good.

Wherfore them murmureth the lyuinge man? let him murmoure at his owne synne,

Let vs loke well vpon oure owne waies, & remembre oure selues, and turne agayne to ye LORDE.

Let vs lift vp oure hertes with oure hondes vnto the LORDE, that is in heauen.

We haue bene dyssemblers & haue offended, wilt thou therfore not be intreated?

Thou hast couered vs in thy wrath, & persecuted vs, thou hast slayne vs without eny fauoure.

Thou hast hyd thy self in a cloude, that oure prayer shulde not go thorow.

Thou hast made vs outcastes, and to be despysed amonge the Heithen.

All oure enemies gape vpon vs.

Feare and snare is come vpon vs, yee despite and destruccion.

Whole ryuers of water gu?she out of myne eyes, for the greate hurte of my people.

Myne eyes runne, and can not ceasse, for there is no rest.

O LORDE, when wilt thou loke downe fro heauen, and considre?

Myne eye breaketh my herte, because of all the doughters of my cite.

Myne enemies hunted me out sharpely like a byrde, yee and that with out a cause.

They haue put downe my life in to a pitte, and layed a stone vpon me.

They poured water vpon my heade, then thought I: now am I vndone.

I called vpon thy name (O LORDE) out of the depe pitte.

Thou hast herde my voyce, & hast not turned awaye thine eares fro my sighinge and crienge.

Thou hast enclyned yi self vnto me, whe I called vpon the, & haist sayde: feare not.

Thou (O LORDE) hast mayntened the cause of my soule, and hast redemed my life.

O LORDE, thou hast sene my blasphemers, take thou my cause vpon the.

Thou hast well considred how they go aboute to do me harme, & that all their councels are agaynst me.

Thou hast herde their despytefull wordes (O LORDE) yee and all their ymaginacions agaynst me.

The lippes of myne enemies, & their deuyces that they take agaynst me, all the daye longe.

Thou seist also their sittinge downe and their rysinge vp, they make their songes of nothinge but of me.

Rewarde them (O LORDE) acordinge to the workes of their hondes.

Geue them ye thinge, that their owne herte is afrayed of: euen thy curse.

Persecute them, (O LORDE) with thy indignacion, & rote them out from vnder the heauen.