Verse 1

O Lorde, thou searchest me out, and knowest me. Thou knowest my downe syttinge & my vprisynge, thou vnderstodest my thoughtes a farre of.

Verse 2

Thou art aboute my path & aboute my bedd, & spyest out all my wayes.

Verse 3

For lo, there is not a worde i my toge, but thou (o LORDE) knowest it alltogether.

Verse 4

Thou hast fashioned me behinde & before, & layed thine hode vpon me.

Verse 5

Soch knowlege is to wonderfull & excellet for me, I can not atteyne vnto it.

Verse 6

Whither shal I go then from thy sprete? Or, whither shal I fle from thy presence?

Verse 7

Yf I clymme vp in to heauen, thou art there: yf I go downe to hell, thou art there also.

Verse 8

Yf I take the wynges of the mornynge, & remayne in the vttemost parte of the see:

Verse 9

Euen there also shal thy honde lede me, and thy right hande shal holde me.

Verse 10

Yf I saye: peradueture the darcknesse shal couer me, then shal my night be turned to daye.

Verse 11

Yee the darcknesse is no darcknesse with the, but the night is as cleare as the daye, the darcknesse & light are both alike.

Verse 12

For my reynes are thyne, thou hast couered me in my mothers wombe.

Verse 13

I wil geue thakes vnto the, for I am woderously made: maruelous are thy workes, and that my soule knoweth right well.

Verse 14

My bones are not hyd from the, though I be made secretly, and fashioned beneth in the earth.

Verse 15

Thine eyes se myne vnparfitnesse, they stonde all writte i thy boke:

Verse 16

my dayes were fashioned, when as yet there was not one of them

Verse 17

How deare are yi coucels vnto me o God? O how greate is the summe of them?

Verse 18

Yf I tell them, they are mo in nombre then the sonde: when I wake vp, I am present with the.

Verse 19

Wilt thou not slaye ye wicked (oh God) that the bloudethyrstie mighte departe fro me?

Verse 20

For they speake vnright of the, thine enemies exalte them selues presumptuously.

Verse 21

I hate them (o LORDE) that hate the, & I maye not awaye with those that ryse vp agaynst the?

Verse 22

Yee I hate them right sore, therfore are they myne enemies.

Verse 23

Trye me (o God) and seke the grounde of myne hert: proue me, & examen my thoughtes.

Verse 24

Loke well, yf there be eny waye of wickednesse in me, & lede me in the waye euerlastinge.