1 Prayse the LORDE (o my soule:) whyle I lyue wil I prayse the LORDE, yee as loge as I haue eny beynge, I wil synge prayses vnto my God.

2 O put not yor trust in prynces, ner in the childe of man, for there is no helpe in the.

3 For when ye breth of man goeth forth, he shal turne agayne to his earth, and so all his thoughtes perishe.

4 Blessed is he that hath ye God of Iacob for his helpe, and whose hope is in the LORDE his God.

5 Which made heauen and earth, ye see and all that therin is, which kepeth his promise for euer

6 Which helpeth them to right yt suffre wronge, which fedeth ye hongrie.

7 The LORDE lowseth men out of preson, the LORDE geueth sight to the blynde.

8 The LORDE helpeth the vp that are fallen, the LORDE loueth the righteous.

9 The LORDE careth for the straungers, he defendeth ye fatherlesse and wyddowe: as for the waye of ye vngodly, he turneth it vpsyde downe.

10 The LORDE thy God (o Sion) is kynge for euermore, and thorow out all generacions. Halleluya.