Great(i)
1 To the chaunter, a monicyon of the sonnes of Corath. Like as the hert desyreth the water brookes, so longeth my soule after the (O God.) My soule is a thurste for God, yee, euen for the lyuyng God: when shall I come, to appeare before the presence of God?
2 My teares haue bene my meate daye & night, whyle they daylie saye vnto me: where is now thy God?
3 Now when I thincke there vpon I powre out my hert by my self: for I went with the multitude, & brought them forth vnto the house of God, in the voyce of prayse and thanckesgeuyng, among soch as kepe holy daye.
4 Why art thou so full of heuynes (O my soule) and why art thou so vnquiete within me?
5 Put thy trust in God, for I wyll yet geue hym thankes, for the help of hys countenaunce.
6 My God, my soule is vexed wythin me: therfore will I remembre the concernyng the land of Iordane, and the lytle hyll of Hermonim. One depe calleth another because of the noyse of thy water pipes all thy waues & stormes are gone ouer me.
7 The Lord hath graunted his louing kindnesse on the daye tyme, & in the night season dyd I syng of him, & made my prayer vnto the God of my lyfe.
8 I wyll saye vnto the God of my strength why hast thou forgotten me: why go I thus heuely, whyle the enemye oppresseth me?
9 My bones are smytten a sunder, whyle mine enemyes cast me in the tethe,
10 Namely, whyle they saye daylie vnto me: where is now thy God?
11 Why art thou so vexed (O my soule) and why art thou so disquieted wythin me? O put thy trust in God, for I wyll yet thanke hym whych is the helpe of my countenaunce, and my God.