Psalm 143

LOrd, my humble supplication,
Heed, & heare with acceptation,
In thy Doomes, of Truth & Right.
Iudge, but judge thou not severely;
For, if thou observe vs nearly,
None are blameles in thy sight.

By the foe, my soul is chased,
Wounded, & in darknes placed,
As one buried, long agoe.
I, am inwardly, perplexed,
Yea, my spirit sore is vexed;
And, my hart is full of woe,

On the times, now past, I ponder,
And, on all the works of wonder.
Which were framed by thy hands.
Thee, I seek, with due submission;
And, my soul, for thy fruition
Longeth, as the thirstie Lands. Selah.

Lord, with speed, give ear vnto me,
And, thy face divart not fro me;
For, my spirits, feeble growe.
Since, on thee I have depended,
Let mee timely be defended,
Lest, into the grave I goe.

Guide my feet, by thy direction,
For, thou hast my hart's affection.
Me from all my foes release.
Lord my God (my safe abidinge)
Bring mee, by thy spirits guiding,
To the Land of Righteousnes

Grace, to do thy pleasure give mee:
For, thy Namesake, Lord, revive me;
Let thy Iustice be my gard.
Yea, destroy (of thy compassion)
Those that seek my soules vexation:
For, I am thy servant, Lord.

Another of the same.
LOrd, mark my suite; my sad complaining hear;
And, in thy Truth & Justice, answear give.
Iudg not thy servant, with a doome severe,
For, in thy sight, not one doth blameles live.
The foe hath chas'd my soul, of life nigh reft mee,
And in the dark, as one long dead hath left mee.

In mee, therfore, my spirits downe are cast;
My hart is fill'd with many a heavie thought:
I muse vpon the dayes, that now are past,
And on thy works, (ev'n al thy hāds have wrought)
With stretchtout hands, & with soul-thirsty pāting
I thirst for thee, as Land, when raine is wanting.

My spirit faints (oh God) with speed give ear.
If longer, thou thy face obscure, I dye.
Oh let thy Love to mee betimes appear;
For, I on thee; on thee alone, relye.
Yea, let me Lord, within thy Paths be trained;
For, vnto thee, I lift a soul vnfained.

Protect mee, Lord; in thee is my abode:
Keep off my foes, & teach thy will to mee.
Let thy good sp'rite, (because thou art my God)
My guide vnto the Land of Iustice be.
Yea, mee, oh Lord, for thy Namesake, revive thou,
My soul, ev'n for thy Iustice sake, reprive thou;
And, of thy grace, all those that mee oppressed,
Destroy thou Lord; for, I am thine professed.