Psalms 6:3
My soule also is in greate trouble, but LORDE how longe?
My soule also is in greate trouble, but LORDE how longe?
These verses are found using AI-powered semantic similarity based on meaning and context. Results may occasionally include unexpected connections.
1 Oh LORDE, rebuke me not in thine anger: Oh chaste me not in thy heuy displeasure.
2 Haue mercy vpon me (o LORDE) for I am weake: o LORDE heale me, for all my bones are vexed.
4 Turne the (o LORDE) & delyuer my soule: Oh saue me, for thy mercies sake.
1 How longe wilt thou forget me, o LORDE? for euer? how longe wilt thou hyde thy face fro me?
2 Oh 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?
9 Thou hast not delyuered me ouer in to the hodes of the enemie, but hast set my fete in a large rowme.
10 Haue mercy vpon me, O LORDE, for I am in trouble, myne eye is consumed for very heuynesse, yee my soule and my body.
16 Therfore is my mynde poured full of heuynesse, & ye dayes of trouble haue take holde vpon me.
17 My bones are pearsed thorow in ye night season, & my synewes take no rest.
2 How loge wil ye vexe my mynde, & trouble me with wordes?
2 In the tyme of my trouble I sought the LORDE, I helde vp my hondes vnto him in the night season, for my soule refused all other comforte.
3 For the enemie persecuteth my soule, he smyteth my life downe to the grounde, he layeth me in the darcknesse, as the deed men of the worlde.
4 Therfore is my sprete vexed within me, and my herte within me is desolate.
3 I am couted as one of the that go downe vnto the pytte, I am eue as a ma that hath no stregth.
46 The dayes of his youth hast thou shortened, and couered him with dishonoure.
3 The snares of death copased me rounde aboute, the paynes of hell gat holde vpon me,
4 I founde trouble and heuynesse. Then called I vpon ye name of the LORDE: o LORDE, delyuer my soule.
11 Quycke me (o LORDE) for thy names sake, and for thy rightuousnesse sake brynge my soule out of trouble.
1 Why are they so many (o LORDE) yt trouble me? a greate multitude are they, that ryse agaynst me.
20 Considre (O LORDE) how I am troubled, my wombe is disquieted, my herte turneth aboute in me, and I am full of heuynes. The swearde hurteth me without, and within I am like vnto death.
8 I am feble and sore smytte, I roare for the very disquietnes of my hert.
4 I sayde: LORDE be mercifull vnto me, heale my soule, for I haue synned agaynst the.
6 I am weery of gronynge: Euery night wasshe I my bedde, & water my couche with my teares.
5 O put thy trust in God, for I wil yet geue him thankes, for the helpe of his countenauce.
6 My God, my soule is vexed within me: therfore I remebre the londe of Iordane, & the litle hill of Hermonim. One depe calleth another wt the voyce of thy whystles, all thy wawes & water floudes are gone ouer me.
2 My soule hath a desyre & loginge for ye courte of ye LORDE, my hert & my flesh reioyse in ye lyuynge God.
6 I am brought into so greate trouble and misery, that I go mournynge all the daye longe.
3 Be mercifull vnto me (o LORDE) for I call daylie vpon the.
14 LORDE, why puttest thou awaye my soule? Wherfore hydest thou thy face fro me?
11 Why art thou so heuy (o my soule) & why art thou so disquieted within me? O put thy trust in God, for I wil yet thanke him for the helpe of his countenaunce, and because he is my God.
7 I hate them that holde of vanities, and my trust is in the LORDE.
5 LORDE, how longe wilt thou be angrie? shal thy gelousy burne like fyre for euer?
6 I stretch forth my hondes vnto the, my soule crieth vnto the out of the thyrstie londe.
3 LORDE, how longe shal the vngodly, how longe shal the vngodly tryumphe?
28 My soule melteth awaye for very heuynesse, o set me vp acordinge vnto thy worde.
13 Haue mercy vpo me (o LORDE) considre the trouble that I am in amoge myne enemies, thou that liftest me vp from ye gates of death.
4 O LORDE God of hoostes, how loge wilt thou be angrie ouer the prayer of thy people?
19 Why goest thou not fro me, ner lettest me alone, so longe till I swalow downe my spetle?
7 Turne agayne then vnto thy rest (o my soule) for the LORDE hath geuen the thy desyre.
16 Turne the vnto me and haue mercy vpon me, for I am desolate and in misery.
17 The sorowes of my herte are greate, O brynge me out of my troubles.
6 My soule hath loge dwelt amonge them, that be enemies vnto peace.
4 My flesh & my skynne hath he made olde, and my bones hath he brussed.
20 Yee thou shalt remebre them, for my soule melteth awaye in me.
4 Fearfullnesse and tremblinge are come vpon me, and an horrible drede hath ouerwhelmed me.
1 it greueth my soule to lyue. Neuerthelesse, now will I put forth my wordes: I wil speake out of the very heuynesse off my soule,
1 My God, my God: why hast thou forsaken me? ye wordes of my coplaynte are farre fro my health.
2 O LORDE my God, I cried vnto the, and thou hast healed me.
13 Turne the agayne (o LORDE) at the last, and be gracious vnto thy seruauntes.
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.