Psalms 6:7
My coutenauce is chaunged for very inwarde grefe, I cosume awaye, I haue so many enemies.
My coutenauce is chaunged for very inwarde grefe, I cosume awaye, I haue so many enemies.
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7 My countenaunce is heuy for very anger, & the membres of my body are become like a shadowe.
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.
11 My life is waxen olde with heuynesse, and my yeares wt mournynge.
6 I am weery of gronynge: Euery night wasshe I my bedde, & water my couche with my teares.
16 My face is swolle with wepinge, & myne eyes are waxen dymne.
51 Myne eye breaketh my herte, because of all the doughters of my cite.
10 My hert paunteth, my strength hath fayled me, & the light of myne eyes is gone fro me.
16 Therfore do I wepe, and myne eyes gusshe out of water: for the coforter that shulde quycken me, is farre fro me. My children are dryuen awaye, for why? the enemie hath gotten the ouer honde.
8 Awaye fro me all ye wicked doers, for the LORDE hath herde the voyce off my wepinge.
3 I am weery of crienge, my throte is drye, my sight fayleth me, for waytinge so longe vpon my God.
48 Whole ryuers of water gu?she out of myne eyes, for the greate hurte of my people.
49 Myne eyes runne, and can not ceasse, for there is no rest.
20 My frendes laugh me to scorne, but myne eye poureth out teares vnto God.
7 And now that I am full of payne, and all that I haue destroied
8 (wherof my wryncles beare wytnesse) there stodeth vp a dyssembler to make me answere with lyes to my face.
9 He is angrie at me, he hateth me, and gnassheth vpon me with his teth. Myne enemy skouleth vpon me with his eyes.
8 Myne enemies reuyle me all the daye longe, they laugh me to scorne, and are sworne together against me.
9 My sight fayleth for very trouble: LORDE, I call daylie vpo the, and stretch out my hondes vnto the.
11 Myne eye also shal se his lust of myne enemies,
82 Myne eyes loge sore for thy worde, sayege: Oh when wilt thou coforte 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?
3 Considre, ad heare me, o LORDE my God: lighten myne eyes, that I slepe not in death.
4 Lest myne enemie saye: I haue preuayled agaynst hi for yf I be cast downe, they that trouble me will reioyse at it.
21 They heare my mournynge, but there is none that wil comforte me. All myne enemies haue herde of my trouble, and are glad therof, because thou hast done it. But thou shalt brynge forth the tyme, when they also shal be like vnto me.
22 From the shall come all their aduersite: thou shalt plucke them awaye, eue as thou hast plucked me, because of all my wickednesse. For my sorow is very greate, and my herte is heuy.
10 Go not farre fro me, o God: my God, haist the to helpe me.
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.
19 Considre how myne enemies are many, and beare a malicious hate agaynst me.
7 For thou hast delyuered me out of all my trouble, so that myne eye seyth his desyre vpo myne enemies.
7 O remembre, that my life is but a wynde, ad that myne eye shal nomore se the pleasures
8 therof yee and that none other mans eye shall se me eny more. For yf thou fasten thine eyes vpon me, I come to naught like
3 My herte is heuy within me, and the feare of death is fallen vpon me.
9 From the vngodly that trouble me, fro myne enemies which compasse my soule rounde aboute.
123 Myne eyes are waysted awaye wt lokynge for thy health, & for ye worde of thy rightuousnesse.
1 My breth fayleth, my dayes are shortened, I am harde at deathes dore.
2 I haue disceaued no man, yet must myne eye cotinue in heuynesse
5 Myne enemies speake euell vpo me: whan shal he dye, and his name perishe?
4 Sela. Thou heldest myne eyes wakynge, I was so feble, that I coude not speake,
8 Oure bones lye scatered before ye pytt, like as when one graueth and dyggeth vp the grounde.
6 I am brought into so greate trouble and misery, that I go mournynge all the daye longe.
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.
5 For the voyce of my gronynge, my bone wil scarse cleue to my flesh.
3 Now when I thinke there vpo, I poure out my hert by my self: for I wolde fayne go hence with the multitude, & passe ouer with them vnto the house of God, in ye voyce of prayse & thankesgeuynge, amonge soch as kepe holy daye.
19 O let the not triuphe ouer me, that are myne enemies for naught: O let them not wyncke wt their eyes, that hate me without a cause.
5 Then let myne enemie persecute my soule, & take me: yee let hi treade my life downe in the earth, & laye myne honor in the dust.
139 My zele hath euen consumed me, because myne enemies haue forgotten thy wordes.
2 Myne enemies treade me daylie vnder their fete, for they be many, yt proudly fight agaynst me.
16 Therfore is my mynde poured full of heuynesse, & ye dayes of trouble haue take holde vpon me.