The Second Penitential Psalm (Psalm 32)

Who so hath sene the sikk in his fevour,
Affter treux taken with the hete or cold,
And that the fitt is past, his furuour.
Draw faynting syghes ; let hym I say behold
Sorowful David, affter his langour,
That with the terys, that from his lyes downrold,
Pausid his plaint and layd adown his harp,
Faythfull record of all his sorows sharp.

It semid now that of his fawt the horrour
Did make aferd no more his hope of grace,
The thretes whereoff in horrible errour.
Did hold his hert as in despair a space.
Till he had willd to seke for his socour
Hym selff accusing, be knowyng his case.
Thinking so best his Lord for to apese
Eesd, not yet held, he felith his disese.

Semyth horrible no more the darke cave
That erst did make his fauh for to tremble ;
A place devout, or refuge for to save
The Socourles, it rather doth resemble;
For who had sene so knele with in the grave
The chieff Pastor of thebrews assemble,
Wold juge it made, by terys of penitence,
A sacred place worthi of reverence.

With vapord lyes he lokyth here and there,
And when he hath a while hym sellff bethowght,
Gadryng his sprites that were dismayd for fere.
His harp agayne into his hand he rowght ;
Tunyng accord by Jugement of his ere
His hertes botum for a sigh he sowght,
And therewith all apon the holow tre
With strainid voyce agayne thus cryth he :

Oh happy ar they that have forgiffnes gott
Off theire offence ; (not by theire penitence
As by meryt wych recompensyth not;

Altho that yet pardone hath non offence
Withoute the same) ; but by the goodnes
Off Him that hath perfect intelligens

Off hert contrite, and coverth the grettnes
Of syn within a marcifull discharge ;
And happy ar they that have the willfullnes

Of lust restraynid afore it went at large,
Provokyd by the dred of Goddes furour,
Wherby thei have not on theyre bakes the charge

Of othrs fawte, to suffer the dolour;
For that theire fawte was never execute
In opyn syght, example of errour.

And happi is he, to whom God doth impute
No more his fawte, by knowleging his syn,
But clensid now the Lord doth hym reput(e),

As adder freshe, new stryppid from his skin,
Nor in his sprite is owght undiscoverd.
I for by cawse I hidd it still within

Thynking by state in fawte to be preferd.
Do fynd, by hyding of my fawte, my harme ;
As he that feles his helth to be hinderd

By secret wound, concelid from the charme
Of lechis cure, that elles had had redresse ;
And fele my bonis consume and wax unfarme

By dayly rage, roring in excesse.
Thy hevy hand on me was so encrest
Both day and nyght, and held my hert in presse

With priking thowghtes, by reving me my rest;
That wytherd is my lustynes a way.
As somer hettes that hath the grene oprest.

Wherfore I did an othr way assay
And sowght forthwith to opin in thy syght
My fawt, my fere, my filthlnes I say ;

And not to hide from The my gret unryght,
" I shall, " quod I, " agaynst my sellff confesse
" Unto the, Lord, all my synfull plyght.

And thou forthwith didst wash the wikkednes
Off myn offence ; of trowght ryght thus it is.
Wherfor they that have tastid thy goodnes

At me shall take example as of this,
And pray and seke in tyme, for tyme of grace.
Then shall the stormes and fluddes of harme hym mis

And hym to rech shall never have the space.
Thow art my refuge, and only save gard;
Suche Joy as he that skapis his enmis ward

With losid bondes, hath in his libertie.
Such Joy, my Joy, thou hast to me prepard ;
That as the Seman in his jeopertie

By soden lyght perceyvid hath the port.
So by thy gret mercifull propertie.
Within thy lok thus rede I my comfort :

I shall the tech and gyve understondyng
And poynt to the what way thou shalt resort
For thi adresse to kepe the from wandryng ;

Myn lye shall tak the charge to be thy guyde;
I aske therto of the alone this thing :
Be not like horse or mule that man doth ryde,

That not alone doth not his master know,
But, for the good thou dost hym, must be tyde
And brydeld, lest his guyd he bite or throw.

Oh dyverse ar the chastysinges off syn !
In mete, in drynk, in breth that man doth blow.
In slepe, in wach, in fretyng styll within,

That never soffer rest unto the mynd;
Filld with offence, that new and new begyn
With thousand feris the hert to strayne and bynd !

But for all this, he that in God doth trust
With marcy, shall hymsellff defendid fynd.
I Joy ! and rejoyse ! I say, ye that be just,

In Him that makth and holdyth yow ; so still
In Him your glory alwey set yow must,
All ye that be of upryght hert and will !