Of Dauid. Blessed be God my rocke: who teacheth my handes to warre, and my fingers to fyght.

My holynesse and my fortresse, my refuge, and my only deliuerer: my buckler, in hym I haue put my trust, who subdueth my people vnder me.

O God, what is man that thou doest knowe hym? what is the sonne of man that thou doest thynke of hym?

Man is lyke a thyng of naught: his dayes be lyke a shadowe that passeth away.

Bowe thy heauens O God and come downe: touche the mountaynes and they shall smoke.

Cast out terrible lightninges and feare them: shoote out thyne arrowes and consume them.

Sende downe thine hand from aboue: deliuer me and take me out of the great waters, from the hande of the children of an other deuotion then I am.

Whose mouth vttereth vanitie: and their ryght hande is a ryght hande of falshood.

O Lorde I wyll syng a newe song vnto thee: and I wyll syng psalmes vnto thee vpon a Lute, and vpon an instrument of ten strynges.

Who geueth victorie vnto kynges: who redeemeth Dauid his seruaunt from peryll of the sworde.

Redeeme me and deliuer me from the hande of the children of an other deuotion then I am: whose mouth vttereth vanitie, and their ryght hande is a ryght hande of falshood.

That our sonnes may growe vp in their youth as young plantes: that our daughters may be as corners stones grauen after the fashion as a palace is.

That the corners of our houses may be fylled, yeeldyng foorth all maner of stoore: that our cattell may bring foorth thousandes, yea ten thousandes in our streates.

That our oxen may be strong to labour that there be no decay: no leadyng into captiuitie, and no complaynyng in our streates.

Happy are the people that be in such a case: blessed is the people who haue God for their Lorde.