A song of high degrees. I will lift vp myne eyes vnto the hilles: from whence my helpe shall come.

My helpe commeth from God: who hath made heauen and earth.

He wyll not suffer thy foote to moue: he wyll not sleepe that kepeth thee.

Beholde, he that kepeth Israel: wyll neither slumber nor sleepe.

God hym selfe is thy keper: God is thy defence vpon thy ryght hande.

The sunne shal not hurt thee by day: neither the moone by nyght.

God wyll preserue thee from all euill: he wyll preserue thy soule.

God wyll preserue thy goyng out and thy commyng in: from this tyme foorth for euermore.