Psalm 16 (Conserva me)

Save me, Lord; for why, thou art
All the hope of all my hart:
Wittnesse thou, my soule, with me,
That to God, my God, I say;
Thou, my Lord, thou art my stay,
Though my workes reach not to thee.

This is all the best I prove:
Good and godly men I love:
And forsee their wretched paine,
Who to other gods doe runne:
Their blood offrings I do shunne;
Nay, to name their names disdaine.

God my only portion is,
And of my childes part the blisse:
He then shall maintaine my lott.
Say then, is not my lott found
In a goodly pleasant ground?
Have not I faire partage gott?

Ever Lord I will blesse thee,
Who dost ever councell me,
Ev'n when Night with his black wing
Sleepy Darknes doth orecast,
In my inward raines I tast
Of my faultes and chastening.

My eyes still my God reguard,
And he my right hand doth guard;
So can I not be opprest,
So my hart is fully gladd,
So in joy my glory cladd:
Yea, my flesh in hope shall rest.

For I know the deadly grave
On my soule noe pow'r shall have:
For I know thou wilt defend
Even the body of thine own
Deare beloved holy one
From a fowle corrupting end.

Thou lifes path wilt make me knowe,
In whose view doth plenty growe
All delights that soules can crave;
And whose bodies placed stand
On thy blessed making hand,
They all joies like-endless have.