PSAL. VI Aug. 13. 1653

        LORD in thine anger do not reprehend me          Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;          Pity me Lord for I am much deject          Am very weak and faint; heal and amend me,          For all my bones, that even with anguish ake,          Are troubled, yea my soul is troubled sore          And thou O Lord how long? turn Lord, restore          My soul, O save me for thy goodness sake          For in death no remembrance is of thee;          Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise?          Wearied I am with sighing out my dayes.          Nightly my Couch I make a kind of Sea;          My Bed I water with my tears; mine Eie          Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark          Ith' mid'st of all mine enemies that mark.          Depart all ye that work iniquitie.          Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping          The Lord hath heard, the Lord hath heard my prai'r          My supplication with acceptance fair          The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping.          Mine enemies shall all be blank and dash't          With much confusion; then grow red with shame,          They shall return in hast the way they came         And in a moment shall be quite abash't.