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A15967 The Psalter of Dauid newely translated into Englysh metre in such sort that it maye the more decently, and wyth more delyte of the mynde, be reade and songe of al men. Wherunto is added a note of four partes, wyth other thynges, as shall appeare in the epistle to the readar.; Bible. O.T. Psalms. English. Crowley. Crowley, Robert, 1518?-1588. 1549 (1549) STC 2725; ESTC S104580 117,190 355

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reioyce in lyke maner Se that ye kysse and eke embrace hys only sonne I saye Leaste in his wrath ye peryshe all and wander from hys waye For his wrath shall ful sodenly be kendled in hys breste But all that put their trust in hym shall certaynely be bleste The .iij. Psalme O Lorde howe many be my foes that agaynst me do ryse And howe manye saye to my soule God doeth hym quite despyse But thou O Lorde art● my target when I am harde besteade Myne honoure and my glorye both and holdeste vp mine heade And with my voyce vpon the Lorde I wil both call and crye And he oute of hys holy hyll wyll heare me by and by I layed me doune and quyetly I stept and rose agayne For why I knowe assuredly the Lord doeth me sustayne I do not feare ten thousande men that compasse me about Aryse O Lorde my God I saye saue me and bringe me oute Thou smytest all thine enemies euen on the heard cheke bone And thou hast broken all the teeth of ech vngodly one Saluacyon doeth alonelye belonge to God aboue Bestowe therfore vpon thy flocke thy blessinge and thy loue The .iiij. Psalme O God my iustyce that doest heare me when I on the crye And doest set me fre from trouble heare me mercyfully O mortall men how longe wyll ye brynge my glory to shame Howe longe will you loue vanitye and seke lyes and false fame And knowe that the Lorde hath chosen for hymselfe the godly And that he wyll geue eare to me when I shall to him crye Synne not but stande in awe therfore examine your herte And in your secrete chamber se you do youre selfe conuert Offer to God the sacrifice of righteousnes I saye And loke that in the lyuyng God ye put your truste alwaye Many men saye who wyl geue vs wordly goodes and substaunce And for to se good fortune also prosperouse chaunce But vpon vs thy poore seruauntes Lorde lyfte thou vp a sygne The lyght Lorde of thy countynaunce that doeth so clearly shyne Yet when I sawe the greate encrease of their corne and newe wyne Thou madeste me reioyce in herte and not there at repyne In peace I shall bothe reste and slepe I shal be ful quyete Because thou only art he that doeste me in salftie set The .v. Psalme LOrd marcke my wordes and vnderstand all my styl whisperynge Heare me for I wil pray to the that arte my God and kynge Lorde thou wilt heare my voyce by tyme and I will me applye Vnto the earlye in the morne and loke on the onlye For thou art not the God that doeth in wyckednes delyght Neyther shal anye wycked thynge remayne wythin thy syght The rageynge foles shal not consiste and stande before thyne eyes For thou hast hated all suche men as worcke iniquities Suche as speake lyes thou shalt destroy for the Lorde doeth withstande The man that shedeth bloude and that taketh disceyte in hande But I wylcome into thyne house trusting vpon thy grace And in thy feare wyll honoure the euen at thyne holy place Lorde leade me forth in thy iustice for feare of myne enmies And thyne owne waye defende thou Lorde before thy seruauntes eyes For in their mouth ther is no truth their inwardes are but dounge Their throte is like an open graue they flatter wyth their tonge Proue them giltye O God and let them falle from their counselles For their greate synnes dryue them awaye for they haue bene rebelles And let suche as do truste in the synge reioyce alwaye Let suche as loue thy name reioyce in thy defence I saye For thou O Lorde doest blesse the iuste geue hym good thynges styll And as a speare thy goodnes doeth enclose hym from all ylle The .vi. Psalme LOrde checke thou not thy pore seruaunt in thine hasty furie Neyther correcte me in the heate of thy melancholye Be mercyful to me O Lorde for I am deformed Heale thou me Lorde because my bones are made sore abashed But my soule is abashed sore yea ryght sore troubled And thou O Lorde howe longe wilt thou se me so afflicted Returne O Lorde set my soule cleare saue me for thy mercye For in death and the graue there is of the no memorye In my sorowfull mornynge I am weryed oute ryght And with my teares my bed couch I make to flowe al nyght My face is wrynckled throughe anger indignacyon And it is made exceadinge olde throughe myne enmyes eche one Departe from me all ye that be worckers of wyckednes For the Lorde hathe hearde the voyce of my sorowfull dystresse The Lorde hathe hearde hys seruauntes prayer and supplicacyon The Lorde hath receyued my suite and mine oracyon Let all myne enemies take shame and be caste doune greatlye Let them be turned backe agayne and take shame sodenlye The .vij. Psalme O Lorde my God I put my trust and confidence in the Kepe me from al that persecute me and delyuer me Let not thys man snalch vp my soule lyke a lyon rageynge Neyther teare it when no man shall come to my rescuynge Oh Lorde my God I haue not done the thinge that they surmyse Myne handes to any frowardnes I do not exercyse Yf I haue done hurte vnto hym that did peace wyth me take Yea whē he vexed me causlesse yf I did him forsake Then let hym persecute my soule and lay handes on the same And let hym treade my lyfe to dyrte and dyminyshe my fame Aryse O Lord in thy fury when my foes be styrred Aryse to me wyth the iudgement that thou haste commaunded And let the companye of al people stande the aboute And therfore to go vp agayne do thou not stande in doubt Let the Lorde iudge the nacyons O Lord iudge me also And after myne vpryght dealynge so let it with me go O ryghteouse God that arte searcher of the hertes and the luste Let the vngodlye mens synne cease and gouerne thou the iuste My shilde my tergat and defence in God alone I fynde That is the sauiour of thē that are of godly mynde God is a iust and vpright iudge he is righteouse I saye And God is moued wyth anger and that euery daye Yf Saule will not returne but make hys swerde ready to fyght Yf he will bende hys bowe I saye and hym selfe to warres dyght Yf he wyll prepare hym suche dartes as wyl kyl presently And frame his burnynge arrowes that will pearse so myghtely Lo then he shall trauayle ryght sore to brynge forth vanitye For he hath conceyued greate gryefe shall brynge out a lye He hath trenched and dygged out a dych for me to falle But into the pytte that he made he slyppeth fyrste of all The care that he bent towarde me shal lyght on his heade certayne So shal the force wherwith he would oppresse me turne agayne After his righteousnes I will prayse the Lorde most myghtye And right so wyll I synge to the name of the Lorde most hye The
.viij. Psalme O Lorde our Lorde howe wonderfull is thy most holy name Throughout the earth that aboue heauēs thou spreadest out thy fame Thou haste brought strength oute of the mouth of babes and sucklinges yonge For thy foes sakes to weken them that reuenge their owne wronge But thyne heauens I wyl behold thyne handiworckes I saye The mone and starres that thou hast made and prepared for aye What thynge is mortall man that thou doest him neuer forget And the sonne of man what is he that thou doest him vyset For vnto God thou hast made him litle inferiour Thou hast compassed hym wyth suche glory and suche honour Thou hast made him lord of the worckes that thyne handes haue formed And eke all thinges vnder hys fete thou hast constytuted Al flockes of shepe and droues of beastes thou diddest to him geue And eke the labouryng beastes that in the feldes do lyue The foules that lyue in the ayre with fyshes great and smalle That lyue by the sea and all thynges that passe by the sea walle O Lorde that arte our Lorde I saye oure mayster and our guyde How wonderfull Lord is thy name through oute the earth so wyde The .ix. Psalme I Wyll set forth and prayse the Lorde with al myne herte in dede And al hys wonderful worckes shal by my be declared I wyll be glad eke reioyce in the O thou most hye And to thyne holy name I wyl synge moste reioyceyngly Whylse my foes shall be driuen backe and caused to recoyle They shall fal and peryshe before the as mē made a spoyle For thou art my iudgement and haste iudged all my debate Thou ryghteouse iudge I saye thou hast sate on thy iudgement seate Thou haste blamed the Heathen and destroyed the wycked And for euer also thou haste theyr name abolyshed Now are thi wastes all at an ende O thou fierse enemye Wyth the cytyes that thou cuntest doune gone is their memorye But the Lorde doeth reygne for euer hys kyngedome hath no ende Hys iudgement seate is made ready to iudge them that offende And he shall iudge the rounde compas of the worlde by iustice And emonge the people he shall geue vpryght sentences The Lorde shal be asure refuge vnto the oppressed He shal be a salfegarde I saye when men be afflycted Suche as haue knowne thyne holye name styke vnto the only For thou Lorde doest not forsake them that seke the studyously Synge to the Lorde that doeth abyde in the cyty Syon Shewe hys counselles in eche people and in eche nacyon For he that doeth reuenge the slayne shall none of them forget Neyther the crye of suche men as are wyth troubles bysette Be mercyfull to me O Lorde and do my troublese That of mine enmies I suffer and frō death lyfte vp me That I maye tel all thy prayses in the gates of Syon And I shal be glad and reioyce in thy saluacyon The Heathen stycke fast in the pytte that they haue prepared And in the net that they haue hyd their fote is entangled The Lord is knowne by his iustice and the wycked tangled Wyth the worckes of hys wycked handes a thynge to be noted The wycked and vngodly men shal slyde doune into hell And all the Heathen that forget the God of Israell For neyther shall the indigent be forgottē for aye Nor the hope of the afflicted be alway vayne I saye Aryse O Lord least mortal man preuayle by mayne and myght And let the heathen nacyons be iudged in thy syght Lorde set a mayster ouer them that maye kepe them styll thraulle And let the heathen nacyons learne that they be mortalle The .x. Psalme LOrde why standest thou so farre of why doest thou not drawe nye Why doest thou hide thyselfe in the tyme of our myserye When the vngodly waxeth proud the afflycted doeth smart Let them be taken in the wycked counselles of their herte For he prayseth the wicked man for that he desyreth The couetouse he calleth bleste the Lorde he blasphemeth In hys haute lokes the wycked man setteth all thynges at nought The God of myght is neuer founde in his vngodly thought The lawes and constytucyons of God do greue him styl At all ceasons they do wythstande his moste vngodly wyll Thy iudgementes Lord are lifted vp ful hygh aboue hys syght And agaynst all his enemies he threateneth to fyght He wyl thincke and saye in his herte I wyll not bowe nor bende From discommodities I wil my selfe euer defende Hys mouth is ful of periurye disceyte and vsurie Oppressyon and vanitye do vnder hys tonge lye In the courtes he layeth awayte to kyll the innocent And agaynste the multytude of the pore hys eyes be bent Lyke as a lyon in hys denne he wayteth in secrete To take the afflycted that is wyth myserye besette That he maye take the poore I saye that is in myserie By drawynge hym into his net by crafte and subtyltie Throughe hys force and hys violence is broken and opprest The multytude of them that haue in mysery no reste And in hys herte thus hath he sayde God forgetteth certayne Turnynge asyde hys face that he myght not se them agayne O Lorde and God aryse I saye lyft vp thine hande and power Forget thou not the afflycted but do thou them succour For why shoulde the vngodly men God in such sort blaspheme And in their herte say that thou wylt not requyre it of them But thou hast sene for thou doest marcke vngodlynes and wronge To put the same into thine hande so myghtye and so stronge The myserable multytude committe them selfes to the For thou art wont to succour suche as wythoute succour be Breake the vngodlyes arme thou shalt seke the wycked man And hys vngodlynes and shalt fynde neyther of them than The Lorde is kyng for euer more and whē all is ended And from hys lande all the heathen people haue peryshed Lord thou haste heard the poore mens cry and wylt gouerne their hert And vnto them thyne eare thou wilt diligētly conuert That thou mayst reuenge the pupyl and the poore oppressed That hēseforth the lyke be not by mortal mē attempted The .xi. Psalme IN the Lorde haue I put my truste how to my soule saye ye Oute of youre mount euen as the byrd se that thou awaye flee For lo the wycked bent their bowe and set their shaftes therin That in the darcke they myght shote them that in herte do not synne Seynge the nettes be broke therfore and the lawes set at nought What coulde the iust man do therin though he toke care and thought But the Lorde in his holy place hath hys throne in heauen His eyes beholde and his eye leddes do serch the sonnes of men The Lorde alloweth the iuste man but he hateth deadly The wycked and suche as do loue force and iniquitie Vpon the wycked he wyll rayne snares fyre and brymstone And eke a stormye burninge wynde thys is their lotte eche one Because the Lorde