Wyatt Original

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Wyatt  Sidney

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Sir Thomas Wyatt Penitential Psalms (1549)
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Psalm 6  Psalm 32  Psalm 38   Psalm 51  Psalm 102   Psalm 130  Psalm 143
Psalm 6 Domine ne in furore
[1] O Lord syns my mouthe, thy myghtie name
Suffereth it selfe my lord, to name & to call
Here hathe my harpe, he taken by the same
That the repentaunce, whych I have and shall
Maye at thy hande, seke mercy as the thynge
Of onely comfort to wretched sinners all
Whereby I dare with humble bemonynge
By the goodnes of thee, this thynge requyre
Chastyce me not, for my deseruinge
[10] Accordynge to thy juste conceaved yre
O lorde I dreade, and that I did not dreade
I me repente, and euermore desyre
Thee to dreade, I open here and sprede
My faulte to thee, but thou for thy goodnes
Measure it not, in largenes nor in breade.
Punishe it not as asketh thee greatnes
Of thy furor prouoked by myne offence
Temper, o lorde, the harme of my excesse
Wyth mendyng wyll that I for recompence
[20] Prepare agayne, and rather pytye me
For I am weake, and cleane wythout defence
More is the nede, I have of remedye
For of the hole, the leche taketh no cure
The shepe that strayeth thee sheparde sekes to see
I lorde am strayed, and seke without recure
Fele al my lymes, that have rebelled for feare
Shake in despayre onelesse thou me assure
My flesshe is troubled, my harte doth feare the speare
That drede of deathe, of deathe that ever lastes
[30] Threateth of ryghte, and draweth nere and neare
Moch more my soule, is troubled by the blastes
Of these assautes, that come as thick as hayle
Of worldly vanities, that temptacion ca*tes
Agaynst the bulwerke, of the flesh frayle
Wherin thee soule, in greate perplexitie
Feeleth the sences, wyth them that assayd
Conspire corrupte by pleasure and vantie
Wherby the wretche, dothe too the shade resorte
Of hope in the, in thys extremytie
[40] But thou o lorde, howe longe after thys sorte
Forberest thou, to se my myserye
Suffer me yet, in hope of some comfort
Feare & not feele, that thou forgettest me
Returne (o lorde) I beseche thee o lorde
Unto thy olde, wonted benygnitye
Reduce reuiue, my soule, be thou the leche
And reconcyle, the great hatred and *ryte
That it hathe had, agaynste the fleshe the wretche
That styred hathe thy wrath by fylthy lyfe
[50] Se howe my soule, doth freate it to the bones
Inwarde remorse, so sharpeth it lyke a knyfe
That but thou helpe, the caitife that bemo*s
Hys greate offence, it turneth anon to duste
Here hathe thy mercye, matter for the nones
For yf thy righteouse hande, that is so iuste
Suffre noo synne, or stryke wythe dampnation
Thy infynite mercye, wante, nedes it muste
Subiecte matter, for hys operatyon
For that in deathe, there is no memorye
[60] Amonge the dampned, nor yet no mencyon
Of thy great name grounde of al glorye
Then yf I dye, and goo where as I feare
To thynke ther on, howe shall thy great mercye
Sounde in my mouthe, vnto thee worldes care
For ther is none that can the laude and love
For that thou wilt no love, among them there
Suffer my cryes, thee mercye too move
That wonted is, a hundred yeares offence
In a moment of repentaunce, to remove
[70] Howe ofte have I called up with dyligence
Thys slouthfull fleshe, longe afore the daye
For to confes, hys faulte and negligence
That to the denne, for oughte that I coulde saye
Hathe styll returned, too shrowde hym selfe from colde
Wherby, if suffreth none for soche delaye
By myghtye playntes, in stede of pleasures olde
I washe my bedde, with teares continuall
To dull my syghte, that it be neuer bolde
To stere my hart agayne, to soche a fall
[80] Thus drye I vp, among my foes in woo
That wythe my fall, doo ryse and growe wythall
And me be sett even nowe, where I am so
Wyth secrete trappes, to trouble my penaunce
Some do presente to me, my wepinge eyes
The chere, the manner, bewtye, or countenaunce
Of her whose looke alas, dyd make me blynde
Some other offer, to my remembraunce
These pleasaunt wordes, now bytter to my mynde
And some, shewe me the power, of my armoure
[90] Triumphe, and conquest, and to my head assynde
Dooble diadme, some shewe favoure
Of people frayle, palace, pompe and riches
To the meremaydes, and theyr baytes of errour
I stoppe my eares, wyth helpe of thy goodnes
And for I fele, it commeth alone of the
That to my harpe, these foes haue none accesse
Dare them byd, auoyde wretches and flee
The Lorde hath hearde, the voyce of my complaynte
Youre engynes, take nomore effect in me
[100] The Lorde hathe heard (I saye) and sent me faynte
Under your hand, and pytyeth my dystresse
He shal do make my sences, by constraynte
Obeye thee rule, that reason shall expresse
Where that thee disceyte, of youre glosing bayte
Made them vsurpe, a power in al excesse
Shamed be they all, that so do lye in wayte
To compasse me by myssynge of theyr praye
Shame and rebuke, redownd to soche dysceyte
Soden confusion, as stroke with our delaye
[110] Shall so deface, theyr craftye suggestion
That they to hurte my helth, noo more assaye
Sence I, O Lorde, remayne in thy protection.
The Auctor
Who so hathe sene, the sycke in hys feuour
After truce taken, wythe the heate or colde
And that the fytte is paste, of hys feuour
Drawe fayntinge syghes, let hym I saye beholde
Sorowefull Dauid, after hys languor
The wyth his teares, that from his eyen downe rolled
Paused his playnte, and layd down hys harpe
[120] Faythfull recorde, of all hys sorowes sharpe

†Yt semed nowe, that of hys faulte the horrour
Dyd make aferde nomore hys hope of grace
Thee threates whereof in horrible terrour
Dyd holde hys harte, as in despaire a space
Tyll he had wyll, to seke for hys succoure
Hym selfe accusynge, beknowynge hys case
Thynkynge so beste, hys lorde to appeace
And not yet healed, he fealethe hys dysease

Nowe semeth feareful, no more the darke caue
[130] That erste dyd make hys fault, for to tremble
A place deuoute, of refuge for too saue
The succurles, it rather dyd resemble
For who had sene, so kneeling with in the grave
The chiefe pasture, of the hebrewes assemble
Wolde Judge it, made by teres of penytence
A sacred place, worthy of reuerence

Wythe vapored eyes, he loked heare, and there
And when he hath, a whyle him self bethoughte
Gatherynge his spirites, that were disdmayde for feare
[140] Hys harpe agayne, vnto hys hand he rought
Tunynge accorde, by Iudgemente of hys eare
Hys hartes botome for a syghe he soughte
And there withall, vpon the holowe tree
With strayned voyce, againe thus cryed he

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Psalm 32 Beati quorum remisse sunt.
[1] OH happy are they, that haue forgeuenes gotte
Of their offence, not by theyr penitence
As by merite which recompenceth not
Al thoughe that yet pardon, hathe not offence
Wythoute thee same, but by thee goodnesse
Of hym that hathe, perfytte intelligence
Of harte contrite, and couert thee greatnesse
Of synne, wythin a mercyfull discharge
And happye are they, that haue the wylfulnesse
[10] Of lust restraygned, afore it went at large
Prouoked by the drede, of Gods furor
Whereby they haue not on their backes thee charge
Of other faultes, too suffer thee dolor
For that theyr faulte, was neuer execute
In open *yghte, example of error
And happy is he, to whome God doth impute
No more hys faulte, by knowledgynge hys synne
And clensed nowe, thee lorde dothe hym repure
As adder fresshe, newe strypped from hys skynne
[20] Nor in hys sprete, is oughte vndiscouered
I for bycause, I hydde it siylle wythin
Thinckinge by state, in fault to be preferred
Do fynde by hyding of my fault my harme
As he that fyndeth, hys healthe hyndered
By secrete wounde, concealed from the charme
Of leches cure, that else had, had redresse
And fele my bones, consume and waxe vnferme
By daylye rage, rorynge in excesse
The heauy hande, on me was so encreaste
[30] Both daye and nyght, & hold my harte in presse
Wyth prickinge thoughtes, by reuinge me my reste
That wethered is my lustynes awaye
As somer heates, that haue thee grayne oppres*e.
Wherfore I dyd, another waye assaye
And soughte forth wyth, to open in thy syght
My faulte, my feare, my fylthines I saye
And not to hyde, from the, my great vnryghte
I shall quoth I, agaynst my selfe confesse
Unto thee Lorde, all my synfull plyghte
[40] And thou forth with diddest wash the wyckednesse
Of myne offence, of truthe ryght thus it is
Wherfore they, that haue tasted thy goo*nesse
At me, shall take example, as of thys
And praye, and s*ke i*t* me, for tyme of grace
Then shall the stormes, and [...]uddes of harme
And hym to reche, shall neuer haue the space
Thou arte my refuge, and onely sauegarde
From the troubles that compas me the place
Such Ioyes, as he that scapeth his enemyes warde
[50] Wyth losed bandes, hath in lybertye
Such is my ioye, thou haste to me preparde
That as the see man in his Ieopardye
By soden syght, perceaued hath the lyghte
So by thy great mercyful propertye
Within thy boke thus reade I my comforte
I shal the teache, and geue vnderstandynge
And point to the, what way thou shalte resorte
For thy addresse, to kepe the from wanderynge
My eye shall take the charge to be thy guyde
[60] I aske therto, of the onelye thys thynge
Be not lyke horse or mule that men do ryde
That not alone doth his master knowe
But for thee good, thou muste hym betide
And brideled lest hys guyde he byte or throwe
Oh diuerse there are chastesinges of sinne
In meat, and drynke, in brethe, that man doth blowe
In slepe, and watche, in fretynge styl wyth in
That neuer suffer rest vnto the mynde
Felde wythe offence, that newe and newe begynne
[70] Wyth thousande feares, the harte to strayne and blynd:
But for al thys he that in God doth trust
Wy*he [...]cye, shall hym selfe defended fynde
Ioyce, and reioyce, I saye: you that be iuste
In hym that maketh, & holdethe you so styll
In hym youre glorye, alwayes set you muste
All you that be, of vpryght hart and wyll
The Auctor
THys songe ended, Dauid dyd sty*t* hys voyce
And in that whyle, he aboute wyth hys eye
Dyd seke the darcke caue, with whyche wythoute noyce
[80] Hys sylence semed, too argue and [...]lye
Uppon hys harpe, thys peace that dyd reioyce
The [undefined span of illegible text] so dyd call
And f[...]de mercye, at plentyfull mercyes hand
Neuer denied, but where it was wythstande

As the seruaunte, in hys maysters face
Fyndynge pardon, of hys passed offence
Consyderynge his greate goodnes, and hys grace
Gladde teares dystylles, as gladsome recompence
Ryghte so Dauid, semed in thee place
[90] A marble Image, of synguler reuerence
Carued in the rocke, wythe eyes and hande on hyghe
Made is by craft, to playn, to sobbe, to syghe

Thys whyle a beame that bryght sonne forth sendeth
That sonne the whyche was neuer sonne could hyde
Perceth thee caue, and on the harpe descendethe
Whose glaunsing lyght, the world dyd ouer glyde
And suche luyster vpon the harpe extendethe
As lyghte of lampe, vpon the golde cleane tryed
The torne wherof into his eyes did s*ette
[100] Supprysed wyth ioye, by pennaunce of the harte

He more enflamed, with farre more hote effecte
Of God then he was erste of Barsabe
Hys lefte foote dyd on thee earthe erec*e
Iuste thereby remaynethe the other knee
To thee lefte syde, hys wayghte he dothe dyrecte
For hope of helthe, hys harpe agayne taketh he
Hys hande, hys tuyne, hys mynde sought hys laye
Whyche to the lord, with sober voyce dyd saye

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Psalm 38 Domine ne in furore tuo.
O Lord as I haue ye, both prayed and praye
Although in the, be no alteracyon
But that we me[n], like as our selfes we saye
Mesuryng thy Iustyce, by ou* mutacyon
Chastice me not (oh lorde) in thy furor
Nor me correcte, in wrathful castygacyon
For that thy arrowes, of feare, of Terror
Of sword, of sycknes, of famine, of fyre
Stickes depe in me, I (loo) fro[m] myne errour
Am plucked vp, as horse out of the myre
With stroke of spurre, such is thy hande on me
That in my flesshe, for terror of thy yre
Is not one poynt, of f*rme stab*lytye
Nor in my bones, ther is no stedfastnes
Suche is my dreade of mutabylyt*e
For that I knowe m* fraylfull wyckednes
For why? my synnes aboue my hed are bounde
Lyke heuy weightes, that doth my force oppresse
Under the whych I stoupe, and bowe to the grounde
As wyllow plante, haled by vyolence
And of my fles*he, eche not well cured wounde
That festered is, by folye, and neclygence
By secrete luste, hath ranked vnder skynne
Not duely cured, by my penytence
Perceyuynge thus, the tyrannye of synne
That with weyght, hath hu[m]bled and deprest
My pryde, by grudgyng of the worme within
That neuer dyeth I lyue wyth [illegible word] rest
So are myne entrayles Inf[...] with feruent *ore
Fedynge my harme, * my wel[...] oppreste
That in my fleshe, is [...] *he therfore
So wonderous great, hath ben my vexacyon
That it forsced my harte, to cry and rore
O lorde thou knowest, thinwa*de contemplacyon
Of my desire, thou knowest my syghes and plaintes
Thou knowest, the teares of my lamentacyon
Ca[n]not expresse, my hartes inwarde restrayntes
My harte pantethe, my force I feele it quayle
My sight, my eyes, my loke decayes and fayntes
And when myne enemyes, dyd me most assayle
My frendes most sure, wherein I set most trust
Myne owne vertues, sonest th* dyd fayle
And stode aparte, reason & wyt*, vniuste
As kyn vnkynde, were fardeste gone at nede
So had they place, ther venume out to thruste
That sought my death, by naughty worde and deade
Ther tonges reproche, their wit dyd frawde applye
And I lyke deafe & dom, forthe my waye yede
Lyke one that heres not, nor hath *o replye
Not one worde agayne, knowyng that from thyne hande
These thynges procede, & thou lorde shalte replye
My truste in that, wherein I stycke and stande
Yet haue I had, greate cause to dreade and feare
That thou wouldeste geue, my foes the ouer hande
For in my fal, they shewed suche pleasaunt chere
That there wythal, I alway in the lashe
Abyde the stroke, and wythe me euery where
I beare my faulte, that greately doth abashe
My dolefull cheare, for I my [illegible word] confesse
And my deserte, dothe al my co[m]fort* dashe
In the m*ne while mine enemies styll encrease
And my prouokers hereby doe augmente
That without cause to hurt me do no [...]ase
In euell for good agaynste me they be bente
And hynder shal, my good presente of grace
Loo nowe my god, that seest my whole entente
My lord I am, thou knowest in what case
Forsake me not, be not far from me gone
Haste to my helpe, haste lorde, & hast apace
O lord, the lord, of al my helth alone
The Auctor
Lyke as the pylgrime, yt in a longe way
Faintinge for heate, prouoked by some wynde
In some fresshe shade lyeth downe *t middes of the day
So dothe of Dauid, the wery voyce and mynde
Ca*e breath of syghes, whe[n] he had songe thys laye
Under suche shade, as sorowe hath assynde
And as thee tone, styll myndes hys vyage ende
So dothe the other, to mercye styll pretende

On foure cordes, hys fingers he pretendes
Without hearyng, or Iudgement of the sounde
Downe of hys eyes, a streame of teares discendes
Wythout felynge, that tryckell on the grounde
Is [illegible word] that bledes in vayne ryghte so Intendes
Thaltred sences to that that the* are bounde
But lyghe and wepe, he can none other thynge
And loke vp styll, vnto the heauen kynge

But who hath ben withoute the caue mouthe
And *earde thee tea*es, and syghes that hym dyd strayne
He wold haue sworne ther had oute of the *outhe
A luke warme wynd, brought forth a *moky rayne
But that so close the caue was, and vnkoweth
That none but god, was recorde of hys payne
[...]s hadde the wynde blowen, in all Israell *ares
Of theyr kynge, the wofull playnte and teares

†Of whych sonne part whe[n] he vp s*pped had
Lyke as he, who[m] hys owne thought affayres
He turnes hys loke, hym semed that the *hade
Of hys offence, agayne hys force assayes
*y vyolente dispayre, on hym too *ade
Sterrynge lyke hym, whom sodayn dispayre dismayde
His herte he straynes, and from his harte oute bringes
Thys songe that I note, wether he cryeth or synges

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Psalm 51 Miserere mei deus
[1] RUe on me Lord, for thy goodnes and grace
That of thy nature arte so bountifull
For that goodness* that in thy worde dothe brace
Repugnant natures* in quiet wo[n]derfull
And for thy me*cyes, no[m]ber with oute ende
In heauen and earth perc*aued so plentifull
That ouer al, they do them selfe* extende
For hys mercye, moche more then man can synne
Do a way my synne, that thy grace offende
[10] Ofte tymes agayne wasshe me but washe me well wythin
And from my synnes, that thus makes me afrayde
Make thou me cleane, as euer thy wonte hath ben*
For vnto thee nowe, none can be layde
For too prescrybe, *emyssyon of synne
I* harte r*tourned, as thou thy selfe has*e sayde
And I besnowe my faulte, and *ny neglygence
In my syghte my synnes is fix*d fas*e
Therof too haue* more perfecte penytence
To the abo*e* to the haue I tres[…]s*e
[20] For none can cure my fault, but thou alone
For in thy syght, I haue not ben agaste
For to offend, iudging thy sight as none
So that my faulte, were hydde from syghte of man
Thy maiestye, so from my sight was gone
Thys knowe I, and r*pent, pardon thou then
Wherby thou shalte kepe* stylle thy worde stable
Thy iustyce pure and cleane, because that when
I pardoned am, then forth with iusticiable
Iuste I am iudged, by iustice of thy grace
[30] For I my selfe, loo, thinge moste vnstable
Formed in offence, conceaued in lyke case
Am nought* but synne from m* natyuytie
Be not these sayde, for myne excuse, ah alas
But of thy helpe, to shewe necessitie inwarde
For loo, thou louest the truthe of the harte
Whych yet dothe lyue, in mooste fydelite
Thoughe I haue falle[n], by frayle ouertha*rte
For wylfull malyce, leade me not the way
So moche, as hathe thee flesshe, dr[…]en me aparte
[40] Wherfore (O Lord*) as thou hast *one alwaye
Teache me, the hydden wysdom of thy lore
Since that my faythe, dothe not[…]t decaye
And as the Iewes, to heale thee […]pper *ore
Wythe Isoppe clense, clense me and I am cleane
Thou shalte me washe, and more then snowe therfore
I shalbe whyte, howe fowle my faulte hath bene
Thou of my health, shall gladsome tydinges bringe
When from aboue, remissio[n] shalbe sene
[50] Discende on earth, thou shal *e for ioye vpspringe
The bones, that were before […]sumed to duste
Loke not, oh Lorde, vppon my[…] offendynge
But do awaye my dedes, that are vniu[…]e
Make a cleane hart in the middell of my bres[…]
Wyth spyryt* v*r[…]g*t, *oyded from *ylthy* lus[…]
From thyne eyes […]re *ast me not in v*res*e
Nor take from me, thee spyryte of holynesse
Render to me* ioye of thy helpe & h*ste
My wylle confyrme, wyth the spirite of stedfastnesse
[60] And by thys, shall these godlye thynges ensue
Synners I shall, into thy wayes addresse
They shall returne to the, and thy grace sue
My tongue shall prayse, thy iustification
My mouth shal spreade, thy glorious prayse true
But of thy selfe, o God, thys operation
It muste procede by purgynge me from bloode
Amonge the *uste* tha* I m*y* haue relatyon
And of thy la*des for to let *ut the floode
Thou muste, oh lord* my lyppes *yrste vnlose
[70] For yf thou haddeste, es*emed pleasaunt good
The outwarde dedes, that outewarde men disclose
I wold haue offered, vnto the sacrifice
But thou delytest not, in no soche glose
Of outeward dede, as men dr ame and d uyse
The *acrifice, that the lorde lyketh moste
Is spirite contryte, lowe harte in humble wyse
Thou do*ste acc*pte, o God, for pleasaunt hoste
Make Syon, Lorde, accordynge to thy wyll
Inward Syon the Syon of the hoste
[80] Of hartes, Ieru*alem strengthe thy walles stylle
Then shalte thou take for good the outwarde dedes
Of a sacrifice, thy pleasure too fulfyll

The Auctor
OF deape secretes, that Dauid ther dyd synge
Of mercye, or fayth, of frayltie of grace
Of goddes goodnesse, and of iusty*yinge
Thy goodnesse dyd so, astony hym [illegible word]
[…] who myght sa*e, who hath *x[…]ssed thys thynge
* synner, I* what haue I saide* a* [illegible word]
That gods goodnesse, wold* with [illegible word] *onge entr a
[90] L[…] me agayne, consyder and repeate

And so he doth but expressed by worde
But in hys harte* he turnethe and payseth
[1 page duplicate]
Eche worde that hys lyppes, myght foorde abrode
He poi[n]teth, he pawseth, he wo[n]dreth, he prayseth
The mercy that hydethe, of iustyce the sworde
The iustyce that so, hys promyse accomplysheth
For hys wordes sake, to worthyles deserte
That gratis, hys grace, to me[n] dothe departe
Here hath he comfort, when he doth measure
[100] Measureles mercye, to measureles fautes
To prodygalle synners, Infinytye treasure
Treasure celestyall, that neuer shal *efaulte
Ye, when that synne shall fayle, and may not endure
Mercy shal reigne agayne, whome shal not assaute
Of hell preuayle, by whome loe, at thys daye
Of heauen gates, remyssyon is thee kaye
And when Dauid, had pondered wel and tryed
A*d seeth hym selfe, not outterly depryued
For lyght of grace, that dar*ke of synne dyd hyde
[110] He fyndeth hys hoope moche, there with reuyued
He importeth on the lorde, on euery syde
For he knowethe wel, that to mercy is ascribed
Respecteles labor, importune, crye, and call
And thus begynneth hys so[n]g, there wythall

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Psalm 102 Domine exaudi orationem meam
[1]LOrd heare my praier, & let my crye passe
Unto the, lord, without Impedyments
Do not fro~ me, tourne thy mercyful face
Unto my selfe, le uynge my gouernement
In tyme of trouble, and aduersytye
Enclyne vnto me, thyne eare & thyne entente
And when I call, helpe myne necessytye
Redely graunte, theffecte of my desyre
Boldelye too please thy Maiestye
[10]And eke my case, soch haste doth well requyre
For lyke a synke, my dayes are past awaye
My bones dryed vp, as a fornace with the fyre
My harte, my mynde, is wythered vp lyke haye
But I haue forgott, to take [illegible word] breade
My breade of lyfe, thee worde o* truthe I saye
And for my paynfull syghes, & my dreade
My bones my strength, my very force of mynde
Cleued to the fleshe, and from ye spirite were fledde
As desperate, thy mercye for to fynde
[20] So made I am, the soden pellycane
And lyke the owle, that flyeth by proper kynde
Lyght of the day, and hath herself betane
To ruyne lyfe, oute of all companye
Wyth waker care, that wt this woo beganne
Lyke thee sparrowe, was I Solytarye
That syttes alone, vnder y* houses *aues
This whyle my foes, conspyred contynually
And dyd prouoke, the harme of my dysease
Wherefore lyke ashes, my bread dyd me sauor
[30] Of thy iust word, the tast might not me please
Wherfore my drinke, I tempered wyth lycor
Of wepynge teares, that from myne eyes dyd rayne
Because I knowe, the wrath of thy furour
Prouoked by ryghte, had of my pryde dysdayne
For thou dyddest lyfte me vp, to throwe me downe
To teache me, howe to know my selfe agayne
Wherby I knowe, that helpeles I shuld drowne
My dayes l*ke shadow declyne, and I doo crye
A*d the foreuer, eternity* dothe drowne
[40] Worlde wythoute ende, dothe last thy memory
For thys frayltie, that yoketh al man kynde
Thou shalt awake, and rue this myserye
Rue on Syon, Syon, that as I fynde
Is thee people, that lyue vnder the lawe
For now is tyme, the tyme at ha[n]de assynde
The tyme so long , that thy seruauntes drawe
In greate desyre, to se that pleasaunte daye
Daye of redemynge Syon, fro[m] synnes awe
For they haue Ruthe, to see in suche decaye
[50] In duste and s*ones, thys wretched Syon lore
Then the gentiles, shall dreade thy name alwaye
All earthely kynges, thy glorye shall honour
Then when thy grace, thy Syo[n] thus redemeth
When thus thou hast declared, thy myghtie power
The lorde his seruauntes, wysshes and so estemeth
That hym turnethe, vnto y* power request
To our dyscente, this to be written semeth
Of all compfortes, as consolacyon beste
And they, that then shalbe regenerate
[60] Shall prayse the Lord, therfore bothe moste and leste
For he hath loked, from the high of hys estate
The Lord from heaue*, *n e*rth hath loked on vs
To heare thee mone of them, that are algate
In soche bondage, to lose and o* discus
The sonnes of death, oute frome theyr deadlye bonde
Too gyue, thereby occasion glorious
In thys Syon, thys holye name to stonde
And in Ierusalem, hys laud*s lastynge aye
When in one churche, thee people of the lande
[70] And realmes, ben gathered to s*rue, to laude, to praye,
The Lorde that is aboue, so ius*e and mercyfull
But these feble, runninge in thee waye
My strength fayleth, to reache it at the full
He hath abredged, my dayes they *re not sure
To se that terme, that tyme so wonderfull
All though I haue, with hart, wil and cure
Prayed to the Lorde, take me not awaye
In the middes of my yeares, thoughe thyne eu r sure
Remayne ete[…]e, whom tyme can not decaye
[80] Thou wroughteste the earthe, thy handes the heauens dyd make
They shall perysshe, & thou shalt laste alwaye
And all thynges aye, shall were and ouertake
Lyke clothe, and thou shalt chaunge the[m] lyke apparell
Tourne, and translate, and they in worthe it take
But thou thy selfe, thy selfe remayneste hole
That thou was erste, and shall thy yeare extende
Then se*s to thys, there maye nothynge rebelle
The greateste compforte, that I can pretende
Is, that the chyldren, of thy seruauntes deare
[90]That in the world are gotte, shall wythoute ende
Before thy face, be stablyshed all in feare
The Auctor

WHen Dauid, hadde perceaued in hys breste
The spyryte of God retourne, that was exyled
Because he knewe, he hath alone expreste
These greate thynges, that grea*er spyryte compyled
As shawme or pipe, lettes out the sounde impreste
By musyke arte forged, to fore & fyled
I saye, when Dauid hadde perceaued that, I wys
The spirite of compforte, in hym reuyued is
[100]†For ther vpon*, he maketh argumente
Of reconsylyng, vnto the Lordes grace
Al thoughe somtyme, to prophecy hathe lente
Bothe brute, beastes, and wycked hartes a place
But oure Dauid, iudgeth in hys entente
Hym selfe by penaunce, cleane oute of thys case
Whereby he hathe, remissyon of offence
And begynneth to alowe, hys payne and penitence
?But wh*n he weyt*, the fa[…] and recompense
He dampneth hys dede, and fyndeth playne
[110] Attwene them two, no what equiualence
Whereby he takethe, all outwarde dedes in vayne
To beare the name, of ryghtfull penitence
Whych is alone, the harte returned agayne
And sore contryte hart, that doth his faulte bemone
And outward dede, the synne or […]te alone
†Wyth thys he dothe defende, the slye assaulte
Of vayne aloweance, of hys owne deserte
And all the glorye, of hys forgeuen faulte
To God alone, he dothe it hole conuerte
[120] Hys owne meryte, he fyndeth in defaulte
And whyles he pondered, these thing*s in hys harte
Hys knee, hys arme, hys hande susteyned hys chinne
When he hys songe, agayne thus dyd begynne

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Psalm 130 Deprofundis clamaui ad te domine.

[1]FRom depth of synne, & from depe dispayre
Fro[m] depth of deeth, fro[m] depth of hart*s sorowe
Fro[m] this depe caue, of darken s, depe repayre
The haue I called (O Lorde) to be my borowe
Thou in my voyce, O Lorde, perceaue and heare
My harte, my hope, my playnte, my ouerthrowe
My wyll to ryse, and let by graunt appeare
That to my voyce, t*yne […]es do well attende
No place so farre, that to the is not neare
[10] Noo depthe so depe, that thou ne mays*e extende
Thyne eare sett* therto, heare the[n] my wofull playnte
For Lord, yf thou doo obserue, what men doo offende
Yf iuste exactyon, demaunde recompence
Who maye endure, O Lorde, who shall not faynte
At soche accompte, dede, and no reuerence
Shoulde so runne at large, but thou sekest rather loue
For in thy hande, is mercyes resydence
By hope, wher*of thou doeste oure hartes moue
I in the Lorde, haue sette my confydence
[20] My soule soche trueth, dothe *uermore approue
Thy holye worde, of eterne exc*ll*nce
Thy mercyes promyse * that is all wa*e iu[…]e
Haue b*n my staye, my piller and pr*t*nce
My soule in God* hath* mor* desyrous *ru[…]
Then ha*h t*e wa[…]m[…] loking for […]
By[…] […]pe […]
Fo* gr[…] […]uor *re hys pr*pet[…]
Pl[…]eou[…] *ansome* shall com* wyth hym I * a[…]
And shall redeme all oure iniquitie
The Auctor

[30]THys worde, redeme, that in his mouthe dyd sounde
Dyd putte Dauid, it semeth vnto me
As in a traunce, to stare vppon thee g ounde
And wyth hys thoughte, the hyghte of heauen to see
Where he beholdes, thee worde that shulde confounde
The worde of death, by humilite here to be
In mortall mayde, in mortal habite made
Eternallye, in mortall vayle too shade
?He seyth that worde, whe[n] ful rype tyme shulde come
Doo awaye that vayle, by feruente aff*ction
[40] Tourne of wyth deathe, for deathe shulde haue her dome
And lepeth lyghter, frome soche corruption
The glute of lyghte, that in the ayre dothe lome
Man redemeth, death hathe h*r destruction
That mortall vayle hathe immortalyt*e
Too Dauid, assuraunce of hys iniquitie
?Wherby he frames, thys reason in hys harte
That goodnes, whych doth not forbeare hys sonne
From d*ath for m[…] and can therby conuerte
My death to lyf[…] m* synne to saluation
[50] Bothe can, and wyll a smaller grac* departe
To hym that sueth, by humble supplication
And syns, I haue thys larger grace assayde
To aske thys thinge, why am I the[n] affrayde
? He graunteth moste, to them that moste do craue
And he delyghtes, in suit wythoute r[…]p*cte
Alas, my sonne pu*sues me to the graue
Suffered by God, my synnes for to *orr*c*e
Bu* of my synnes, syns I may pardon hau*
My sonnes suyte, shall shortelye be reiec*e
[60] Then wyll I craue, wyth sute confydence
And thus b*gynne the sucte of hys pretence

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Psalm 143 Domine exaudi orationem meam.

[1] Hear* my prayer, o lord, heare my requeste
Complyshe my bone, supply thou my desire*
Not for my desert, but for thyne owne behest
In whose firme truth, thou promist myne empyre
To stande stable, and after thy iustyce
Performe, o* Lorde, that thynge that I requyre
But of law, after the forme and guise
To enter iudgement, wythe thee thrall bonde slaue
To plede hys right, for in soch maner wyse
[10]Before thy syghte, noo man hys ryghte shall saue
For o* my self, lo, thys my righteousnesse
By scorge and whyppe, and priekynge spur*s I haue
Scant ryse[n] vp, such is my beas* lynes
For that, myne enemyes hath put sued my lyfe
And in the duste, hathe soyled my lustynes
Forreyn* r*almes to fl[…] hys rage *o ry*e
Be hath* […] hyde my [illegible word]
And for bycaus* […] at st*y*e
My har*e […] *orce war*s[…]
[20] I had recoue[…] to […] paste
And dyd rememb[…] t[…] *ea[…]s in al my drede
And dyd peru*e* thy *or*k*s * euer last
Wherby I knowe a[…]ue the * wonders al
Thy mercyes were th*n lyfte I vp in hast
My handes to the[…] [illegible word] soule *o the dyd call
Lyke bare soyle for moyster o* *hy grace
Haste to my helpe O lord a*or* I fall
For euer I fele, my spiryte doth fainte apace
Turne not thy face from me* yt I be layede
[30] In compt of them, that headlinge downe doo passe
Into the pyt, shewe me be tunes thyne ayde
For on thy grace, I holly do depende
And in thy handes, since all my helth is stayed
Do me to know, what way thou wylte, I bende
For vnto the, I haue raysed vp my mynde
Rydde me (oh lorde) from them that do entende
My foes to be, for I haue me assigned
Alwaye wythin, thy secrete protectyon
Teache me thy wyl, that I by yt may fynde
[40] The way to worke, the same in a*fectyon
For thou my god, thy blessed spirite vpryght
In laude of truthe, shall be my dyr*ctyon
Thou for thy name shal reuiue my spiryte
Wythin the ryght that I receiue by the
Wh*reby my l[…], of daunger shalbe quyte
T*ou haste fo* done the greate iniquy*ye
T*a* v[…]r* […] *ou shalt also c*n*o*n[…]
[…]y foes [illegible word] *or thy be ignitt
For thyne am I thy seruaun[…] moste bounde

FINIS.

*um Preuil*gio ad imprimendum S*lum.

M.T.XLIX. The last day of December.

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