Isaiah 64:8-12 But now o LORDE, thou father of ours: we are the claye, and thou art oure potter, and we all are the worke of thy hondes.

Coverdale⁽ⁱ⁾ ⁸ But now o LORDE, thou father of ours: we are the claye, and thou art oure potter, and we all are the worke of thy hondes. ⁹ Be not to sore displeased (o LORDE) and kepe not oure offences to loge in thy remembraunce, but considre that we all are thy people. ¹⁰ The cities of thy Sanctuary lye waist, Sion is a wildernesse, and Ierusalem a deserte. ¹¹ Oure holy house which is oure bewty, where oure fathers praysed the, is brent vp, yee all oure comodities and pleasures are waysted awaye. ¹² Wilt thou not be intreated (LORDE) for all this? Wilt thou holde thy peace, and scourge vs so sore?