Psalm 38

Not in thy wrath against me rise;
Nor in thy fury, Lord, chastise:
Thy Arrowes wound,
Naile to the Ground,
Thy hand upon me lies.

No Limb from paine and anguish free;
Because I have incensed thee:
Nor rest can take,
My bones so ake;
Such sinne abounds in me.

Like Billowes they my head transcend;
Beneath their heavy load I bend:
My Ulcers swell,
Corrupt, and smell;
Of Folly the sad end.

Perplext in mind I pine away,
And mourning wast the tedious day;
My Flesh no more
Then all one Sore;
All parts at once decay.

Much broken; all my strength o'rethrowne;
Through anguish of my Soule I groane.
Lord, thou dost see
My thoughts and mee;
My Sighs to thee are knowne.

My sad Heart pants, my nerves relent,
My Sight growes dim; and to augment
My miseries,
All my Allies
And Friends themselves absent.

Who seeke my life, their Snares extend;
Their wicked thoughts on Mischiefe bend:
Calumniate,
And lye in wait
To bring me to my end.

But I as deafe to them appeare,
As mute, as if I tonguelesse were:
My passion rul'd,
Like one that could
At all not speake nor heare.

Because my hopes on thee relye:
My God, I said, O heare my cry;
Lest they should boast,
Who hate me most,
And in my ruine joy.

For O! I droop, with struggling spent:
My thoughts are on my sorrowes bent.
My sinnes excesse
I will confesse;
In showres of teares repent.

My foes are full of strength and pride;
Who causelesse hate, are multipli'd:
Who good with ill
Repay; would kill,
Because I just abide.

Depart not, Lord; O pity take!
Nor me in my extremes forsake!
Salvation
Is thine alone;
Hast to my succour make.