I crie vnto the LORDE with my voyce, yee eue vnto the LORDE do I make my supplicacion. I poure out my complaynte before him, and shewe him of my trouble.

When my sprete is in heuynesse, for thou knowest my path: in the waye where in I walke, haue they preuely layed a snare for me.

I loke vpon my right honde & se, there is no man that wil knowe me. I haue no place to fle vnto, no man careth for my soule.

Therfore do I crie vnto the (o LORDE) and saye: thou art my hope and my porcion, in the londe of the lyuynge.

Cosidre my complaynte, for I am brought very lowe.

Oh delyuer me fro my persecuters, for they are to stronge for me:

Brynge my soule out of preson, that I maye geue thakes vnto thy name: which thinge yf thou wilt graute me, then shal the rightuous resorte vnto my copany.