Certayne psalmes chosen out of the psalter of Dauid, commonlye called the .vii. penytentiall psalmes, drawen into englyshe meter by Sir Thomas Wyat knyght, wherunto is added a prolage of [the] auctore before euery psalme, very pleasau[n]t [and] profettable to the godly reader

Certayne psalmes chosen out of the psalter of Dauid / commonlye called thee .vii. penytentiall psalmes , drawen into englyshe meter by Sir Thomas Wyat Knyght , wherunto is added a prologe of the auctore before euery psalme , very pleasaunt & profettable to the godly reader .

Imprinted at London in Paules Churchyarde , at the sygne of thee Starre , By Thomas Raynald . and Iohn Harryngton

¶ To the right honorable and his singuler good Lord , William , Marqu●she of Northampton , Earle of Essex , Barone of K●ndal , Lord parre , & knig●t of the most noble ordre of the Garter , youre moste bon●en orator at commaundement , Iohn Hattington , wysh●th helth , & prosperite wyth encrease of v●rtue & the mercy of God for euer .

COnsyderyng th● manyfolde dueties and aboundant seru●ce that I owe vnto your good Lordeshyp ( ryghte honorable , & my Singul●r good Lord ) I can not , but see infinite causes● why I chiefely of all others oughte ( wyth all cheref●ll and ready endeuoure ) to gratifye your good Lordshyp by all meanes possyble , and to applye my selfe wholye too thee same , as one that woulde gladly , but can by no mean●s able to do accordinglye as hys bonden duette requireth : I cannot , I say , but se & acknowledge my selfe bounden , and not able to doo soche seruice as Iowe , both for the inestimable benefites that your noble progenito●s , and also your good Lordship hath shewed vnto my parentes & pr●dycessors : & also to my selfe , as to one least able to do anye acceptable seruice , thoughe the wil be at all tymes most ready , In token wherof , youre lordship shal at all tymes perceaue , by simple thinges , that my ●ittel wit shal be able to inu●nt that yf myne harte coulde do you any seruyce : no labour or trauayle shulde witholde me from doynge my duetie● & that yf busy labour & that hert myght be able to paye the du●tye that loue oweth : your lordshyp shulde in no point fynde me ingrate or vnthankful . And to declare this my redye wyll : I haue dedicated vnto your name , thys little treatyse , whyche after I had perused and by th aduise of others ( better learned then my self ) determined to put it in printe , that the noble fame of so worthy a Knighte , as was thee Auctor hereof , Syr Thomas Wyat , shuld not perish but remayne as wel for hys syngul●r learning , as valiant dedes in ●ne●cyal f●ates : I thought that I could not find a more worthy patron for soch a mans worke then your Lordship , whom I haue al●wayes knowen to be of so godlye a zeale , to thee furtheraunce of gods holy & a secret gospel , most humbly b●sechynge your good Lordeshippe , herin to accepte my good wyll , and too esteme me as one that wissheth vnto the same al honour , healthe , and prosperous successe .

AMEN .

☞ Your good Lordshyppes most humble at commaundement Iohn Hartington .

¶ The Prologe of the Auctor LOue to geue lawe vnto hys subiectes hartes Stode in the eyes of Barsabe the bryghte And in a looke anone hym selfes conuertes Cru●lly pleasaunt , before King Dauids syght Fyrst dased hys ●yes , & furder forth he s●art●s Wyth venemed brethe , as softly as he myghte Touche his senewes , and ouer runnes hys bones Wyth ●●epynge fyre , sparkeled for the nones And when he sawe , that kindeled was the flame The noysome poyson , in hys harte he launced So that the soule dyd tremble wyth the same And in hys brawle , as he stode and traunced Yeldynge vn●o the fygure , and thee frame That those fayre eyes , hadde in hys pre●ens glaun●●d Th● tor●●● that loue , had printed in hys ●reste● 〈◊〉 ●o●oreth it , as a thynge of thyng●s ves●e ☞ So that he forgotte , the wysdom a●d ●or●caste Wh●●he woo to realmes , when that 〈…〉 dothe lacke Forg●●●●ge ●ke , goddes Maiestye as 〈◊〉 Y●a , a●● hys owne , forthwyth he dothe to make ●rye to goo , into ●hee felde in 〈◊〉 Urye I saye : that was hys Ieweles make Under pretence , of certayne victorye For enemyes swordes , a ready pray to be W●ereby he may , enioye her out o● doubte Whome more th●n God , or him self he myn●eth And after he hadde broughte thys thynge about And of t●at luste , possest hym self he fyndeth● That hathe and dothe reuerse , and cl●ne turne out Kynges from kyngdomes , and cytyes vndermynd●th He blynded thynkes thys trayne , so blynde and close To blynde al thynges , that nothing waye it disclose ☞ But Nathan hath spied , out this trecherye Wyth ●uful ch●are , and settes afore hys face The greate offence , outrage and iniurye That he hathe done too God , as in thys case By murder for too clooke adulterye He shewethe eke from heauen , thee t●reates alas So s●●rnly sore , thys Prophete thys Nathan That al am●sed was , thys woful aged man ¶ Like him that meateth wyth horror and wythe feare The heate doth streyght forsake the lymyttes colde The colour ●ke droppeth downe from hys cheare So dothe he feele hys fyre manyfolde Hys heate , hys luste , his pleasure all in scare Consume and waste● and streyght hys crowne of gold . Hys purple pauler , hys scepter he le●teth fall And to the ground , he throweth him self wyth all ☞ Then pompious pryde , of state and dignite Forth with rebate repentaunt humblenes Thinner vyle clothe , then clothed pouertie Doth scantlye hyde and cladde hys nakednes Hys fayre hoore bearde , of reuerente grauitie Wyth ruffeled heyre , knowyng hys wyckednes More lyke was he , the same repentaunce Then statelye prynce , of worldelye gou●rnaunce ☞ ●ys harpe he takethe , in hand to be his guide Wherwyth he offreth , playnts hys soule to saue That from hys harte , dystylleth on euery syde Wythedrawynge hym selfe , into a darke cau● Within the ground , wher he might hym ●yde Flyinge the lyghte , as in pryson or graue In which as sone , as Dauid entred had The darcke horror , dyd make hys faulte a drad ✚ But wythout , prolongyng or delaye Of that , whyche myghte hys Lorde hys God appease Falleth on hys knees , and wyth hys harpe I saye Afore hys breste , frawted wythe dysease Of stormye syghes , depe draughtes of hys d●caye Dressed vpryghte , sekyng to conterpase Hys songes wythe syghes and touchynge of the stringes Wyth tender harte , too thus to God he synges

Domine ne in furore 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 haue 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 Chas●yce me not , for my deseruinge Accordynge to thy ●uste conceaued yre O lorde I dreade , and that I did not dreade I me repente , and euermore d●syre 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 Prepare agayne , and rather pytye me For I am weake , and cleane wythout defence More is the nede , I haue of remedye For of the hole , the ●eche taketh no cure The shepe that ●trayeth thee sheparde sekes to see I lorde am strayed , and seke without recure Fele al my lymes , that haue rebelled for feare Shake in despayre onelesse thou me assure My flesshe is troubled , my harte doth feare the spe●r● That drede of deathe , of deathe that euer lastes 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●les Agayn●● the bulwerke , of the flesh frayle Wherin thee soule , in greate perple●itie Fe●leth the senc●s , wyth the tha● assayd Consp●re corrup●● by pleasure and van●ie Wherby the wretche , dothe too the shade resorte Of hope in the , in thys extremytie But thou● o lorde , howe longe a●ter 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 Se howe my soule , doth freate it to the bones Inwarde ●emorse , so sharpeth it lyke a knyfe T●at but thou helpe , the caitife that be●o●●●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 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 mer●ye Sounde in my mouthe , vnto thee worldes care For ther is none● that ●an the laude and loue For that thou wilt no loue , among them there Su●fer my cryes , thee mercye too moue That wonted is , a hundred yeares offence In a moment of repentaunce , to remoue Howe ofte haue I called vp 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 Thus drye I vp , among my foes in woo That wythe my fall , doo ryse and growe wythall And me be sett euen 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 Triumphe , and conquest , and to my head assynde Doo●le dia●●me , some shewe fauoure 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 The Lorde hathe heard ( I saye ) and sen● 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 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 Faythfull recorde , of all hys sorowes sharpe ✚ Yt semed nowe , that of hys faulte the horrour Dyd make a ferde nomore hy● hope of grace Thee threates whereof in horrible te●rour 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 bes●e , hys lorde to appeace And not yet healed , he fealethe hys dysease ☞ Nowe semeth feareful , no more the darke caue That ers●e dyd make hys fault , for to tremble A place deuoute , of refuge for too saue The succurles , it rather dyd res●mble For who had sene , so kneeling with in the graue The chiefe pas●ure , of the hebrewes assemble Wolde Iudge 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 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

Beati quorum remisse sunt . OH happy are they , that haue forgeuenes gotte Of th●ir 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 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 o● 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 Nor in hys sprete , is oughte vndi●couered 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 ●edresse And fele my bones , consume and waxe vnferme By daylye rage , rorynge in ●xcesse The heauy hande , on me was so encreaste Both daye and nyght , & hold my harte in presse Wyth prickinge thoughtes , by reuinge me my reste That weth●red is my lus●ynes 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 And thou forth with diddest wash the wyckedn●sse Of myne off●nce , of truthe ryght thus it is Wherfore they , that haue tas●ed thy goo●nesse At me , shall take example , as of thys And praye , and s●ke i●t● me , for tyme of grace Th●n shall the stormes , and ●●uddes of harme And hym to r●●he , shall ●euer haue the space Thou arte my refuge , and onely ●auegarde From the troubles that compas me the place Such Ioyes , as he that scapeth his enemyes warde 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 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 Wyth thousande feares , the harte to strayne and blynd : But for al thys he that in God doth trust Wy●he ●●●cy● , shall hym selfe defended fynde Ioyce , and reioyce , I saye : you that be iuste In hym that mak●th , & 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 end●d , Dauid dyd sty●t● hys voyce And in that whyle , he aboute wyth hys eye Dyd seke the darcke caue , with whyche wythoute noyce Hys sylence semed , too argue and ●●●lye Uppon hys harpe , ●hys peace that dyd reioyce The 〈…〉 so dyd call And f●●●d● mercye , at plentyfull mercy●s 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 A marble Image , of synguler reuerence Carued in the rocke , wythe eyes and hande on hygh● Made is by craft , to playn , to sobbe , to syghe Thys whyle a beame that bryght sonne forth sendeth That sonne the whyche was neue● sonne could hyde Perc●th 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 cleaue tryed The torne wherof into his eyes did s●e●te 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 wayght● h● 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

Domine ne in furore tuo . O Lord as I haue the , both prayed and praye Although in the , be no alteracyon But that we men , 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 ) from myne ●rrour Am pluck●d 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 know●● m● fraylfull wyckednes For why ? my synnes aboue m● hed are bounde Lyke heuy weightes , that doth my force oppresse Under the whych I stoupe , and b●we 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 n●clygence By secrete luste● hath ra●k●d vnder skynne Not duely cured , by my penytence Perceyuynge thus , the tyrannye of synne That with weyght , hath humbled and deprest My pryde , by grudgyng of the worme within That neuer dyeth● I lyue wyth 〈◊〉 rest So are myne ●ntrayles I●f●●● with feruent ●ore Fedynge my harme , ● my wel●● oppreste That in my ●leshe● , 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 Cannot 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 s●ycke 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 greatel● doth abashe My dolefull cheare , for I my 〈◊〉 confesse And my de●erte , dothe al my cōfort● dashe In the m●ne while● mine enemi●● styll en●rease And my prouokers● hereby do● augmente That without cause● to hurt me do no ●●ase In euell for good agaynste m● 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 , that 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 , when 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 〈◊〉 that bledes in vayne● ryghte so Intendes Thaltred sences to that that the● are bound● But lyghe and wepe , he can no●● other thynge And loke vp styll , vnto the heaue● kynge ☞ But who hath ben w●thoute the caue mouthe And ●earde thee tea●es● and syghes that hym dyd strayne He wold haue sworne ther had oute of the ●outh● A luke warme wynd , brought forth a ●moky rayne But that so close the caue was , a●d vnkoweth That none but god , was r●corde of hys payne ●●s hadde the ●ynde blowen , in all Israell ●ares Of theyr kynge , the wofull playnte and teares ✚ Of why●h sonne part when he vp s●pped had Lyke as he , whom hys owne thought● affayres He turnes hys loke , hym semed that the ●hade Of hys offen●e , aga●ne hys force assayes ●y vyolente dispayre , on hym too ●ade St●rrynge 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

Miserere mei deus RUe on me Lord , for thy goodnes and grace That of thy nature arte so bountifull For that goodnes● that in thy worde dothe brace Repugnant natures● in quiet wonderfull And for thy me●cyes , nomber 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 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 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 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 fallen , by frayle ouertha●rte For wylfull malyce , leade me not the way● So moche , as hathe thee flesshe , dr●●en me aparte 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 shal be whyte , howe fowle my faulte hath bene Thou of my health , shall gladsome tydinges bringe When from aboue , remission shal be sene 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 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 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 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 〈◊〉 ●● who myght sa●e , who hath ●x●●●ssed thys thynge ● synner , I● what haue I saide● a● 〈◊〉 That gods goodnesse , wold● with 〈◊〉 ●onge entr●a● L●● me agayne , consyder and repeate ☞ And so he doth but expressed by worde But in hys harte● he turnethe and payseth Eche worde that hys lyppes , myght foorde abrode He pointeth , he pawseth , he wondreth , 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 men dothe departe Here hath he comfort , when he doth measure 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 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 song , there wythall

Domine exaudi orationem meam . LOrd heare my praier , & let my crye passe Unto the , lord , without Impedyments Do not from 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 , th effecte of my desyre Boldelye too please thy Maiestye 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 〈◊〉 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 the spirite were fledde As desperate , thy mercye for to fynde 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 with this woo beganne Lyke thee sparrowe , was I Solytarye That syttes alone , vnder the houses ●aues This whyle my foes , conspyred contynually And dyd prouoke , the harme of my dysease Wherefore lyke ashes , my bread dyd me sauor 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 , eterniti● dothe drowne 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 hande assynde The tyme so long● , that thy seruauntes drawe In greate desyre , to se that pleasaunte daye Daye of redemynge Syon , from synnes awe For they haue Ruthe , to see in suche decaye 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 Syon thus redemeth When thus thou hast declared , thy myghtie power The lorde his seruauntes , wysshes and so estemeth That hym turnethe , vnto the power request To our dyscente , this to be written semeth Of all compfortes , as consolacyon best And they , that then shal be regenerate 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 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 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 them 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 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 I wys The spirite of compforte , in hym reuyued is ✚ 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 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 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

Deprofundis clamaui ad te domine . FRom depth of synne , & from depe dispayre From depth of deeth , from depth of hart●s sorowe From 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 Noo depthe so depe , that thou ne mays●e extende Thyne eare sett● therto , heare them my wofull playnte For Lord , yf thou doo obserue , what men doo offende And putte the natyue mercye , in restreynte 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 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 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 , when ful rype tyme shulde come Doo awaye that vayle , by feruente aff●ction 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 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 then 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 Then wyll I craue , wyth sute confydence And thus b●gynne the sucte of hys pretence

Domine ●x●●di orationem meam . HEar● my prayer , o lord , heare my requeste Complyshe my bone , supply thou my desyre● 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 Before thy syghte , noo man hys ryghte shall saue For o● my self , lo , thys my righteousnesse By scorge and whyppe , and priekynge spurr●s I haue Scant rysen 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 〈◊〉 And for bycaus● 〈…〉 at st●y●e My har●e 〈…〉 ●orce war●s●●●● 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●● 〈◊〉 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● that I be layede 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 that may fynde 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 shal be quyte T●ou haste fo● done the greate iniquy●ye T●a● v●●r● 〈…〉 ●ou shalt also c●n●o●n●● ●●y foes 〈◊〉 ●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 .