Psalms 102:7
I wake, and am euen as it were a sparow sittinge alone vpon the house toppe.
I wake, and am euen as it were a sparow sittinge alone vpon the house toppe.
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3 For my dayes are consumed awaye like smoke, & my bones are brent vp as it were a fyre brande.
4 My hert is smytte downe and wythered like grasse, so that I forget to eate my bred.
5 For the voyce of my gronynge, my bone wil scarse cleue to my flesh.
6 I am become like a Pellicane in the wildernes, and like an Oule in a broken wall.
13 I thought I wolde haue lyued vnto the morow, but he brussed my bones like a lyon, and made an ende of me in one daye.
14 Then chatred I like a swalowe, and like a Crane, and mourned as a doue. I lift vp myne eyes in to ye hight: O LORDE, (sayde I) violence is done vnto me, be thou suertie for me.
8 Myne enemies reuyle me all the daye longe, they laugh me to scorne, and are sworne together against me.
9 I eate ashes with my bred, and mengle my drynke with wepynge.
3 For the sparow hath founde hir an house, & the swalowe a nest, where she maye laye hir yoge: eue yi aulters O LORDE of hoostes, my kynge & my God.
6 Lo, then wolde I get me awaye farre of, and remayne in the wildernesse.
7 Sela. I wolde make haist to escape, from the stormy wynde and tempest.
11 Therfore I will not spare my mouth, but will speake in the trouble of my sprete, in ye bytternesse of my mynde will I talke.
12 Am I a see or a whalfysh, that thou kepest me so in preson?
6 For out of the wyndowe of my house I loked thorow the trelies,
52 Myne enemies hunted me out sharpely like a byrde, yee and that with out a cause.
4 Therfore is my sprete vexed within me, and my herte within me is desolate.
22 I go hence like ye shadowe that departeth, and am dryuen awaye as ye greshoppers.
23 My knees are weake thorow fastinge, my flesh is dried vp for want of fatnesse.
4 I thought that I had bene cast awaye out of thy sight: but I wil yet agayne loke towarde thy holy temple.
11 My dayes are gone like a shadowe, and I am wythered like grasse.
1 In the LORDE put I my trust: how will ye then saye to my soule: that she shulde fle as a byrde vpon youre hill?
6 He hath made me as it were a byworde of the comon people, I am his gestinge stocke amoge the.
7 My countenaunce is heuy for very anger, & the membres of my body are become like a shadowe.
1 I stode vpon my watch, and set me vpon my bulworke, to loke & se what he wolde saye vnto me, and what answere I shulde geue him yt reproueth me.
9 Myne heretage is vnto me, as a spreckled byrde, a byrde of dyuerse coloures is vpon it. Go hence, and gather all the beastes of the felde together, that they maye eate it vp.
28 Mekely & lowly came I in, yee & without eny displeasure: I stode vp in ye cogregacion, & commoned with the
29 But now. I am a copanyon of dragons, & a felowe of Esiriches.
11 My life is waxen olde with heuynesse, and my yeares wt mournynge.
12 My stregth fayleth me because of my aduersite, and my bones are corrupte.
14 I am laughed to scorne of all my people, they make songes vpon me all ye daye loge.
6 My soule doth paciently abyde the LORDE, fro the one mornynge to the other.
7 My coutenauce is chaunged for very inwarde grefe, I cosume awaye, I haue so many enemies.
8 He that oft tymes flytteth, is like a byrde yt forsaketh hir nest.
20 Thou knowest my reprofe, my shame & my dishonor: my aduersaries are all in thy sight.
13 They gape vpon me with their mouthes, as it were a rampinge and roaringe lyon.
14 I am poured out like water, all my bones are out of ioynt: my hert in the myddest off my body is euen like meltinge waxe.
10 Go not farre fro me, o God: my God, haist the to helpe me.
17 I am redy to suffre trouble, and my heuynesse is euer in my sight.
8 And the lyon cried: LORDE, I haue stonde waytinge all the whole daye, and haue kepte my watch all the night.
4 Sela. Thou heldest myne eyes wakynge, I was so feble, that I coude not speake,
8 Kepe me as the apple of an eye, defende me vnder the shadowe of thy wynges.
19 Why goest thou not fro me, ner lettest me alone, so longe till I swalow downe my spetle?
22 Thou hydest them priuely by thine owne presence from the proude men, thou kepest them secretly in thy tabernacle, from the strife of tonges.
1 Be mercifull vnto me (o God) be mercifull vnto me, for my soule trusteth in ye: & vnder the shadowe of thy wynges shalbe my refuge, vntill wickednesse be ouerpast.
13 From aboue hath he sent downe a fyre, in to my bones and chastened me: he hath layed a net for my fete, and throwne me wyde open: he hath made me desolate, so that I must euer be mournynge.
8 Oure bones lye scatered before ye pytt, like as when one graueth and dyggeth vp the grounde.
15 Myne eyes are euer lokynge vnto the LORDE, for he shal plucke my fete out of ye nett.
6 They holde alltogether, & kepe them selues close: they marck my steppes, how they maye catch my soule.
25 I loked aboute me, and there was no body, and all the byrdes of the ayre were awaye.
12 He hath bent his bowe, and made me as it were a marck to shute at.