Coverdale(i) 1 Unto the wil I crie, o my stronge defence: thinke no scorne of me, lest (yf thou make the as though thou herdest not) I become like them, that go downe into ye pytte. 2 Heare the voyce of my humble peticion, when I crie vnto the, and holde vp my hondes towarde thy holy temple. 3 O plucke me not awaye amonge the vngodly and wicked doers, which speake frendly to their neghboure, but ymagin myschefe in their hertes. 4 Rewarde them acordinge to their dedes and wickednesse of their owne inuencions. 5 Recompense them after ye workes of their hodes, paye them that they haue deserued. 6 For they regarde not the workes of the LORDE, ner the operacion of his hades: therfore shal he breake them downe, and not buylde them vp. 7 Praysed be ye LORDE, for he hath herde the voyce of my humble peticio. 8 The LORDE is my stregth and my shylde: my herte hoped in him, & I am helped: therfore my hert dauseth for ioye, and I will synge prayses vnto him. 9 The LORDE is the strength of his people, he is the defender and Sauioure of his anoynted. O helpe thy people, geue thy blessynge vnto thy enheritaunce: fede them, and set them vp for euer.