Psalms 3:2
Many say of my soule: there is no saluation for it in God. Selah.
Many say of my soule: there is no saluation for it in God. Selah.
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1A psalme of Dauid when he fled from the face of Absalom his sonne. O God howe are myne enemies increased? many do ryse vp against me.
3For straungers are rysen vp against me: and tirauntes whiche haue not the Lorde before their eyes, seeke after my soule. Selah.
4Behold, God is an ayde vnto me: the Lorde is with them that vpholde my soule.
3But thou O God art a buckler for me: thou art my worship, and the lifter vp of my head.
4I dyd call vpon God with my voyce, and he hearde me out of his holy hyll. Selah.
10For myne enemies speake against me: and they that lay awayte for my soule take their counsayle together.
11They say, the Lorde hath forsaken hym: do you persecute hym and take hym, for there is none to delyuer hym.
12Go not farre from me O Lorde: haste thee O my Lorde to helpe me.
18He hath redeemed my soule through peace from the battayle that was against me: for there were many with me.
11O go not far fro me, for trouble is harde at hande: and there is none to helpe me.
4When I loked vpon my ryght hande and sawe rounde about me there was no man that woulde knowe me: I had no place to flee vnto, and no man cared for my soule.
21They heare my mournyng, but there is none that wyll comfort me: All myne enemies haue hearde of my trouble, and are glad therof because thou hast done it: and thou hast brought foorth the time which thou calledst, when they also shal be lyke vnto me.
22Let all their wickednesse come before thee, and do thou to them as thou hast done vnto me for all my trespasses: for my sorowe is very great, and my heart is heauy.
6They haue prepared a net for my feete, that some man might presse downe my soule: they haue digged a pit before me, and are fallen into the midst of it them selues. Selah.
26Helpe me O my Lorde: oh saue me according to thy mercy.
3Bryng foorth the speare, and stop the way against them that persecute me: say vnto my soule, I am thy saluation.
12For innumerable troubles are come about me, my sinnes haue taken such holde vpon me that I am not able to loke vp: yea they are mo in number then the heeres of my head, & my heart hath fayled me.
3For lo, they lye in wayte for my soule: men of power are gathered together against me who haue committed no wickednes nor fault O God.
14O God, the proude are rysen against me: a companie of outragious naughtipackes haue sought after my soule, and haue not set thee before their eyes.
3For my soule is full of miserie: and my life toucheth the graue.
9I wyll say vnto the Lorde of my strength: why hast thou forgotten me, why go I thus heauyly through the oppression of myne enemie?
10It was as a sworde in my bones, when myne enemies dyd cast me in the teeth: in saying dayly vnto me, where is nowe thy Lorde?
11Why art thou so discouraged O my soule, & why art thou so vnquiet within me? attende thou vpon the Lorde, for I wil yet acknowledge him to be only my present saluation, and my Lorde.
5Why art thou so discouraged O my soule, & why art thou so vnquiet within me? attende thou vpon the Lorde, for I will yet acknowledge him only to be a present saluation.
2Howe long shall I seke counsayle in my soule, and be so vexed in mine heart euery day? howe long shall myne enemie triumph ouer me?
10Heare me O God, and haue mercy vppon me: O God be thou my helper.
14But my hope hath ben in thee O God: I haue sayd thou art my Lorde.
3For the enemie hath persecuted my soule, he hath smitten my lyfe downe to the grounde: he hath layde me in darknesse as men that haue ben long dead.
4And my spirite is ouerwhelmed within me: and my heart is desolate in the midst of me.
3He wyll sende from heauen, and saue me from the reproofe of him that woulde deuour me vp, Selah: the Lorde wyll sende foorth his mercie and trueth.
1To the chiefe musition of the mornyng hinde, a psalme of Dauid. My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so farre from my health, and from the wordes of my complaynt?
2For thou art the Lord of my strength: why hast thou reiect me, and why go I thus heauyly through the oppression of myne enemie.
1To the chiefe musition, a psalme of Dauid. In God I put my trust: howe say ye then to my soule, that she shoulde flee as a byrde from your hyll.
5Why art thou so discouraged O my soule, & why art thou so vnquiet within me? attende thou vpon the Lorde, for I wyll yet acknowledge hym to be only my present saluation, & my Lorde.
12Geue vs ayde against trouble: for the sauing helpe of man is but vayne.
5Then let myne enemie persecute my soule and take me: yea, let hym put me to death, and lay myne honour in the dust. Selah.
4Lest myne enemie say, I haue preuayled agaynst hym: lest they that trouble me reioyce yf I shoulde be remoued.
7In the Lorde is my health and my glory: my trust is in the Lorde the fortresse of my force.
13My pathes haue they cleane marred, it was so easye for them to do me harme, that they needed no man to help them.
13Thou hast thrust sore at me, that I might fall: but God dyd ayde me
2Thou hast sayde O my soule vnto God, thou art my Lorde: my weldoing can do thee no good.
19But be not thou farre from me O God: thou art my strength, make haste to helpe me.
13Haue mercy on me O God: consider the trouble whiche I suffer of them that hate me, lift me vp from the gates of death.
1A song of high degrees. Israel may now say: they haue troubled me often from my youth vp.
19Consider myne enemies, for they do multiplie: and they beare a tirannous hate against me.
6There be many that say, who wyll shewe vs any good? O God lift thou vp the light of thy countenaunce vpon vs.
2Myne enemies are dayly in hande to swalowe me vp: for they be many that fight against me, O thou most highest.
1To the chiefe musition (to be song lyke vnto the song beginning) destroy not, a golden psalme of Dauid, when he fled from Saul into the caue. Be mercifull vnto me O Lorde, be mercifull vnto me: for my soule trusteth in thee, and vnder the shadowe of thy wynges wyll I trust, vntyll this tiranny be ouerpast.
7All they that see me, laugh me to scorne: they do make a mowe, and nod their head at me.
3My soule also is greatly troubled: but O God howe long shall I be in this case?