To the chiefe musition, a psalme of Dauid. Blessed is he that considereth ye poore: God wyll delyuer hym in the tyme of trouble.

God wyll preserue hym & kepe him aliue: he shalbe blessed vpon the earth, and thou O God wylt not deliuer him into the wyll of his enemies.

God wyll comfort hym when he lyeth sicke vpon his bed: thou O God wylt turne vpside downe all his bed in his sicknesse.

I sayde, O God be mercifull vnto me: heale my soule, for I haue sinned agaynst thee.

Myne enemies speake euyl of me: when shall he dye, and his name perishe?

But yf any of them came to visite me, he spake vanitie: his heart conceaued vngodlynesse within hym selfe, & when he came foorth a doores he vttered it.

All they that hated me whispered together: they imagined euyl agaynst me.

They sayde some great mischiefe is lyghted vpon hym: and he that lyeth sicke on his bed, shall ryse vp no more.

Yea besides this, euen myne owne friende whom I trusted: which dyd also eate of my bread, hath kicked very much agaynst me.

But be thou mercifull vnto me O God: rayse me vp agayne, and I shall rewarde them.

By this I knowe thou fauouredst me: in that myne enemie doth not triumph agaynst me.

And when I am in my best case, thou vpholdest me: and thou wylt set me before thy face for euer.

Blessed be God the Lorde of Israel: worlde without ende, Amen, Amen.