O Lorde God, to whom vengeaunce belogeth: thou God to whom vengeaunce belongeth, shewe thy self.

Arise thou iudge of the worlde, & rewarde the proude after their deseruynge.

LORDE, how longe shal the vngodly, how longe shal the vngodly tryumphe?

How longe shal all wicked doers speake so di?daynedly, and make soch proude boastynge?

They smyte downe thy people (o LORDE) and trouble thine heretage.

They murthur the widdowe and the straunger, and put the fatherlesse to death.

And yet they saie: Tush, the LORDE seyth not, the God of Iacob regardeth it not.

Take hede, ye vnwise amonge the people: o ye fooles, when wil ye vnderstonde?

He that planted the eare, shal he not heare? he that made the eye, shal not he se?

He that nurtureth the Heithen, and teacheth a man knowlege, shal not he punysh?

The LORDE knoweth the thoughtes of men, that they are but vayne.

Blessed is the ma, whom thou lernest (o LORDE) and teachest him in thy lawe.

That thou mayest geue him pacience in tyme of aduersite, vntill the pytte be dygged vp for the vngodly.

For the LORDE wil not fayle his people, nether wil he forsake his inheritaunce.

And why? iudgment shalbe turned agayne vnto rightuousnesse, and all soch as be true of hert shal folowe it.

Who ryseth vp with me agaynst the wicked? who taketh my parte agaynst the euell doers?

Yf the LORDE had not helped me, my soule had allmost bene put to sylence.

When I sayde: my fote hath slipped, thy mercy (o LORDE) helde me vp.

In ye multitude of the sorowes that I had in my herte, thy comfortes haue refreshed my soule.

Wilt thou haue eny thinge to do with the stole of wickednesse, which ymagineth myschefe in the lawe?

They gather them together agaynst the soule of the rightuous, & condemne the innocent bloude.

But the LORDE is my refuge, my God is the stregth of my confidece.

He shal recompence the their wickednesse, and destroye them in their owne malice: yee the LORDE oure God shal destroye them.