Psalm 39 (Dixi, custodiam)

Thus did I think, I well will marke my way,
Lest by my tongue I hap to stray.
I muzzle will my mouth, while in the sight
I do abide of wicked wight.
And so I nothing said, but mute I stood,
I silence kept, even in the good.

But still the while that I did hold my peace,
The more my sorrow did increase:
The more me thought my hart was hott in me,
And as I mus'd this world to see,
The fire tooke fire, and forcibly out breake;
My tongue would needes, and thus I spake:

Lord, unto me my times just measure give,
Show me how long I have to live.
Lo, thou a spanns length, mad'st my living line.
A spanne? nay, nothing in thine eyne.
What do we seeke? the greatest state we see,
At best, is meerely vanity.

They are but shades, not true things where we live:
Vaine shades, and vaine, in vaine to grieve.
Looke but on this; man still doth riches heape,
And knows not who the fruite shall reape.
This beeing thus, for what, O Lord, waite I?
I waite on thee with hopefull eye.

O helpe, O helpe me; this farre yet I crave,
From my transgressions me to save.
Lett me not be throwne down to so base shame,
That fooles of me, maie make their game.
But I doe hush, why do I say thus much?
Since it is thou that mak'st of me such.

Ah! yet from me lett thy plagues be displac'd,
For with thy handy stroakes I wast.
I know that mans foule sinne doth cause thy wrath,
For when his sinne thy scourging hath,
Thou moth-like mak'st his bewty fading be;
Soe what is man but vanity?

Heare, Lord, my sutes and cries: stop not thine eares
At these my wordes all cloth'd in teares,
For I with thee on earth a stranger am,
But baiting as my fathers came.
Stay then thy wrath, that I may strength receave,
Ere I my earthly being leave.