Psalm 6

O Lord my God rebuke me not,
When thou shalt angry bee;
When thy displeasure waxeth hot,
O do not chasten mee.
O Lord have mercy on my soule,
For I am wondrous weak:
Lord I beseech thee make me whole,
My bones with anguish break.
My soul is also vexed sore,
But Lord how long a space?
Return ô Lord, my soul restore,
O save mee of thy grace;
For after death can no man have
Remembrance Lord, of thee;
Who hopes to thank thee in the grave?
My groaning wearieth mee,
All night I make my bed to swimme,
My Couch with teares o're-flowes:
Mine eye, consum'd with griefe, grows dimme,
Because of all my foes.
From me yee sinners go away,
For lo my voice that wept,
The Lord hath heard, the Lord, I say,
My prayer will accept.
God heard my suit at my desire,
Let shame my foes confound;
With suddain shame let them retire,
And sore vexations wound.