Coverdale(i) 1 Why boastest thou thy self (thou Tyraunt) that thou canst do myschefe? 2 Where as the goodnesse of God endureth yet daylie. 3 Thy tonge ymagineth wickednesse, and with lyes it cutteth like a sharpe rasoure. 4 Thou louest vngraciousnesse more the good, to talke of lyes more then rightuousnesse. 5 Sela. Thou louest to speake all wordes yt maye do hurte, O thou false toge. 6 Therfore shal God cleane destroyethe, smyte the in peces, plucke the out of thy dwellinge, and rote the out of the londe of the lyuinge. 7 Sela.The rightuous shal se this, & feare, and laugh him to scorne. 8 Lo, this is the ma, yt toke not God for his stregth, but trusted vnto the multitude of his riches, & was mightie in his wickednesse. 9 As forme, I am like a grene olyue tre in ye house of God: my trust is in the tender mercy of God for euer & euer. I wil allwaye geue thankes vnto the, for that thou hast done: and wil hope in thy name, for thy sayntes like it well.