Psalms of David 6
6
PSALM VI.
C. M.
1THY dreadful anger, Lord, restrain,
And spare a wretch forlorn;
Correct me not in thy fierce wrath,
Too heavy to be borne.
2Have mercy, Lord, for I grow faint,
Unable to endure
The anguish of my aching bones,
Which thou alone canst cure.
3My tortur’d flesh distracts my mind,
And fills my soul with grief;
But, Lord, how long wilt thou delay
To grant me thy relief?
4Thy wonted goodness, Lord, repeat,
And ease my troubled soul;
Lord, for thy wondrous mercy’s sake
Vouchsafe to make me whole.
5For after death no more can I
Thy glorious acts proclaim;
No pris’ner of the silent grave
Can magnify thy Name.
6Quite tir’d with pain, with groaning faint,
No hope of ease I see;
The night, that quiets common griefs,
Is spent in tears by me.
7My beauty fades, my sight grows dim,
My eyes with weakness close;
Old age o’ertakes me, whilst I think
On my insulting foes.
8Depart, ye wicked; in my wrongs
Ye shall no more rejoice;
For God, I find, accepts my tears,
And listens to my voice.
9-10He hears and grants my humble pray’r;
And they that wish my fall,
Shall blush and rage to see that God
Protects me from them all.
موجودہ انتخاب:
Psalms of David 6: MP1696
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First published 1696, improved 1698.
Psalms of David 6
6
PSALM VI.
C. M.
1THY dreadful anger, Lord, restrain,
And spare a wretch forlorn;
Correct me not in thy fierce wrath,
Too heavy to be borne.
2Have mercy, Lord, for I grow faint,
Unable to endure
The anguish of my aching bones,
Which thou alone canst cure.
3My tortur’d flesh distracts my mind,
And fills my soul with grief;
But, Lord, how long wilt thou delay
To grant me thy relief?
4Thy wonted goodness, Lord, repeat,
And ease my troubled soul;
Lord, for thy wondrous mercy’s sake
Vouchsafe to make me whole.
5For after death no more can I
Thy glorious acts proclaim;
No pris’ner of the silent grave
Can magnify thy Name.
6Quite tir’d with pain, with groaning faint,
No hope of ease I see;
The night, that quiets common griefs,
Is spent in tears by me.
7My beauty fades, my sight grows dim,
My eyes with weakness close;
Old age o’ertakes me, whilst I think
On my insulting foes.
8Depart, ye wicked; in my wrongs
Ye shall no more rejoice;
For God, I find, accepts my tears,
And listens to my voice.
9-10He hears and grants my humble pray’r;
And they that wish my fall,
Shall blush and rage to see that God
Protects me from them all.
موجودہ انتخاب:
:
سرخی
شئیر
کاپی
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First published 1696, improved 1698.