Psalm 6Words: Thomas
Sternhold, as in The Scottish Psalter of 1635
1 Lord, in thy wrath reprove me not, though I deserve thine ire; Nor yet correct me in thy rage, O Lord, I thee desire: 2 For I am weak, therefore, O Lord, of mercy me forbear; And heal me, Lord, for why? thou know'st my bones do quake for fear. 3 My soul is troubled very sore, and vexed exceedingly; But, Lord, how long wilt thou delay to cure my misery? 4 Lord, turn thee to thy wonted grace, some pity on me take; O save me, not for my deserts, but for thy mercies' sake. 5 For why? no man among the dead rememb'reth thee one whit; Or who shall worship thee, O Lord in the infernal pit? 6 So grievous is my plaint and moan, that I wax wond'rous faint; All the night long I wash my bed with tears of my complaint. 7 My sight is dim, and waxeth old with anguish of my heart, For fear of those that be my foes, and would my soul subvert. 8 But now away from me, all ye that work iniquity; For why? the Lord hath heard the voice of my complaint and cry. 9 He heard not only the request and prayer of my heart, But it receiv�d at mine hand, and took it in good part. 10 And now my foes that vex-ed me the Lord will soon defame, And suddenly confound them all with great rebuke and shame. |
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