Psalms 4:2
O ye sonnes off men: how longe will ye blaspheme myne honoure? why haue ye soch pleasure in vanyte, & seke after lyes?
O ye sonnes off men: how longe will ye blaspheme myne honoure? why haue ye soch pleasure in vanyte, & seke after lyes?
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45Thou hast put out his glory, and cast his Trone downe to the grounde.
46The dayes of his youth hast thou shortened, and couered him with dishonoure.
47Sela. LORDE, how longe wilt thou hyde thy self? For euer? shal thy wrath burne like fyre?
2How longe wil ye geue wroge iudgment, & accepte the personnes of the vngodly?
10We se oure tokens nomore, there is not one prophet more, no not one that vnderstondeth enymore.
4My hert was hote within me, & whyle I was thus musynge, the fyre kyndled: so that I spake with my tonge.
5LORDE, let me knowe myne ende, and the nombre of my dayes: that I maye be certified what I wante.
6Beholde, thou hast made my dayes a spanne longe, and my life is as it were nothinge before the. O how vayne are all men lyuynge?
1How longe wilt thou forget me, o LORDE? for euer? how longe wilt thou hyde thy face fro me?
2Oh how loge shall I seke councell in my soule? how longe shall I be so vexed in my herte? how longe shal myne enemie triumphe ouer me?
1Heare me whe I cal, o God of my rightuousnes, thou that comfortest me in my trouble: haue mercy vpon me, and herken vnto my prayer.
11When thou punyshest man for synne, thou chastenest him: so that his beutie consumeth awaye, like as it were a mothe. O how vayne are all men?
12Sela. Heare my prayer o LORDE, and considre my callinge: shewe not thy self as though thou sawest not my teares. For I am a straunger and pilgrymme with the, as all my forefathers were.
3Sela Knowe this, that the LORDE dealeth maruelously with his saynte: and when I call vpon the LORDE, he heareth me.
3LORDE, what is ma, that thou hast soch respecte vnto him? Or the sonne of man, that thou so regardest him?
4Man is like a thinge of naught, his tyme passeth awaye like a shadowe.
3LORDE, how longe shal the vngodly, how longe shal the vngodly tryumphe?
4How longe shal all wicked doers speake so di?daynedly, and make soch proude boastynge?
3Wherfore are we counted as beestes, & reputed so vyle in youre sight?
1Why boastest thou thy self (thou Tyraunt) that thou canst do myschefe?
16I can se no remedy, I shall lyue nomore: O spare me then, for my dayes are but vayne
17What is man, that thou hast him in soch reputacion, and settest so moch by him?
3Shulde men geue eare vnto the only? Thou wilt laugh other men to scorne, & shal no body mocke the agayne?
9Sela. As for men, they are but vayne, me are disceatfull: vpo the weightes they are al together lighter then vanite itself.
21How longe shall I se the tokens of warre, and heare the noyse of the trompettes?
3Thinkest thou it well done, to oppresse me, to cast me of (beinge a worke of thy hondes) and to manteyne the councell of the vngodly?
4Hast thou fle?shy eyes then, or doest thou loke as man loketh?
5Are thy dayes as the dayes of man, and thy yeares as mans yeares?
6that thou makest soch inquisicion for my wickednesse, and searchest out my synne?
49What man is he that lyueth, and shal not se death? Maye a ma delyuer his owne soule from the honde of hell?
12Beholde, ye stonde in yor owne conceate, as though ye knew all thinges. Wherfore then do ye go aboute wt soch vayne wordes,
3My soule also is in greate trouble, but LORDE how longe?
3How longe wil ye ymagin myschefe agaynst euery man? ye shal be slayne all ye sorte of you: yee as a tottringe wall shal ye be, & like a broken hedge.
13Turne the agayne (o LORDE) at the last, and be gracious vnto thy seruauntes.
5LORDE, how longe wilt thou be angrie? shal thy gelousy burne like fyre for euer?
4How longe shall the londe mourne, and all the herbes off the felde perish, for the wickednes off them that dwell therin? The catell and the byrdes are gone, yet saye they: tush, God will not destroye vs vtterly.
4It is you, o ye men (sayeth she) whom I call. Unto you (o ye childre of me) lift I vp my voyce.
24Wherfore hydest thou thy face, and holdest me for thine enemye?
9the women off my people haue ye shot out fro their good houses, and taken awaye my excellent giftes from their children.
5Then let myne enemie persecute my soule, & take me: yee let hi treade my life downe in the earth, & laye myne honor in the dust.
1Yf youre myndes be vpon rightuousnesse in dede, then iudge the thinge that is right, o ye sonnes of men.
22Every man can eschue a persone moued in anger, for what doth he wysely?
4O LORDE God of hoostes, how loge wilt thou be angrie ouer the prayer of thy people?
14Fro the men of thy honde (o LORDE) from the men off the worlde, which haue their porcion in this life: whose belies thou fyllest with thy treasure.
3Why lettest thou me se weerynesse and laboure? Tyrany and violence are before me, power ouergoeth right:
8Herke vnto my voyce (O LORDE) when I crie vnto the: haue mercy vpon me & heare me.
26Let them be put to confucion and shame, that reioyse at my trouble: let the be clothed with rebuke and dishonoure, that boost the selues agaynst me.
1Why art thou gone so farre of, o LORDE? wilt thou hyde thyselff in tyme of trouble?
1Helpe LORDE, for there is not one saynte more: very fewe faithfull are there amonge the children off men.
2Yee many one there be that saye off my soule: there is no helpe for him in God.