Psalm 43 (Judica me, Deus)

Judge of all, judge me,
And protector be
Of my cause oppressed
Of most cruell sprites;
Save me from bad wights,
In false collours dressed.

For, my God, thy sight,
Giveth me my might,
Why then hast thou left me?
Why walk I in woes,
While prevailing foes
Have of joye bereft me?

Send thy truth and light,
Let them guide me right
From the paths of folly:
Bringing me to thy
Tabernacle high,
In thy hill most holy.

To Gods Alters though
Will I boldly goe,
Shaking off all sadnes;
To that God that is
God of all my blisse,
God of all my gladnes.

Then loe, then I will
With sweete musicks skill,
Gratefull meaning show thee:
Then God, yea, my God,
I will sing abroade
What greate thanks I owe thee.

Why art thou, my soule,
Cast down in such dole?
What ailes thy discomfort?
Waite on God, for still
Thank my God, I will,
Sure aid, present comfort.