Wycliffe(i)
7 Thi Lord God seide, At a poynt in litil tyme Y forsook thee, and Y schal gadere thee togidere in greete merciful doyngis.
8 In a moment of indignacioun Y hidde my face a litil fro thee, and in merci euerlastynge Y hadde merci on thee, seide thin ayenbiere, the Lord.
9 As in the daies of Noe, this thing is to me, to whom Y swoor, that Y schulde no more bringe watris of the greet flood on the erthe; so Y swoor, that Y be no more wrooth to thee, and that Y blame not thee.
10 Forsothe hillis schulen be mouyd togidere, and litle hillis schulen tremble togidere; but my merci schal not go a wei fro thee, and the boond of my pees schal not be mouyd, seide the merciful doere, the Lord.