Psalm 41 (Beatus qui intelligit)

Hee blessed is who with wise temper can
Judge of th' afflicted man,
For God shall him deliver in the tyme
When most his troubles clime.
The Lord will keepe his life yet safe and sound,
With blessings of the ground;
And will not him unto the will expose,
Of them that be his foes.

When bed from rest becomes his seate of woe,
In God his strength shall growe,
And turne his couch, where sick he couched late
To well recovered state;
Therefore I said in most infirmity
Have mercy, Lord, on me:
O, heale my soule, let there thy cure beginne,
Where 'gainst thee lay my sinne.

My foes evill wordes their hate of me display,
While thus, alas, they say:
When, when will death oretake this wretched wight,
And his name perish quite?
Their courteous visitings are courting lyes,
They inward evill disguise,
Ev'n heaps of wicked thoughts, which straight they show
As soone as out they goe.

For then their hatefull heades close whisp'ring be,
With hurtfull thoughts to me.
Now he is wrackt, say they, loe there he lies,
Who never more must rise.
O, you my frend, to whome I did impart
The secrets of my hart,
My frend, I say, who at my table sate,
Did kick against my state.

Therefore, O Lord, abandon'd thus of all,
On me let mercy fall;
And raise me up, that I may once have might,
Their meritts to requite:
But what? this doth already well appeare
That I to thee am deere:
Since foes, nor have, nor shall have cause to be
Triumphing over me.

But triumph well may I, whome thou did'st stay
In my sound rightfull way:
Whom thou (O place of places all) dost place,
For ay, before thy face.
So then be blest now, then, at home, abroad,
Of Israeli the god:
World without end, let still this blessing flow,
Oh soe; oh be it soe.