Coverdale(i)
1 Beholde the LORDES honde is not so shortened yt it can not helpe, nether is his eare so stopped yt it maye not heare.
2 But yor my?dedes haue separated you from yor God, & yor synnes hyde his face from you, yt he heareth you not.
3 For yor hondes are defyled with bloude, and yor fyngers wt vnrighteousnesse: Yor lippes speake lesynges, & yor tonge setteth out wickednes.
4 No man regardeth righteousnes, & no ma iudgeth truly Euery man hopeth in vayne thinges, and ymagineth disceate, coceaueth weerynesse, & bringeth forth euell.
5 They brede cockatrice egges, & weeue ye spyders webb. Who so eateth of their egges, dieth. But yf one treade vpon the, there cometh vp a serpent.
6 Their webbe maketh no clothe, & they maye not couer the wt their labours. Their dedes are ye dedes of wickednes, & ye worke of robbery is in their hodes.
7 Their fete runne to euell, & they make haist to shed innocet bloude. Their coucels are wicked coucels, harme & destruccio are in their wayes.
8 But ye waye of peace they knowe not. In their goinges is no equyte, their wayes are so croked, yt who so euer goeth therin, knoweth nothinge of peace.