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6:1	To hym that excelleth in musick, vpon the instrument of eyght strynges. A psalme of Dauid. O Lorde, rebuke me not in thyne indignacion: nether chasten me in thy displeasure.
6:2	Haue mercy vpon me, O Lorde: for I am weake: O Lorde heale me: for my bones are vexed.
6:3	My soule also is sore troubled: but Lorde howe longe wylt thou punyshe me?
6:4	Turne the, O Lorde, and delyuer my soule: Oh saue me for thy mercyes sake.
6:5	For in death no man remembreth the: & who will geue the thankes in the pytte?
6:6	I am weery of my gronynge: euery nyght washe I my bedd, & water my couche with my teares.
6:7	My bewtye is gone for very trouble, and worne awaye because of all myne enemyes.
6:8	Awaye frome all ye that worke vanyte: for the Lorde hath hearde the voyce of my wepynge.
6:9	The Lorde hathe hearde my peticyon, the Lorde wyll receaue my prayer.
6:10	All myne enemyes, shalbe confounded & soore vexed, they shalbe turned backe & put to shame sodenly.


6:1	The title of the sixte salm. To the ouercomere in salmes, the salm of Dauid, `on the eiythe.
6:2	Lord, repreue thou not me in thi stronge veniaunce; nether chastice thou me in thin ire.
6:3	Lord, haue thou merci on me, for Y am sijk; Lord, make thou me hool, for alle my boonys ben troblid.
6:4	And my soule is troblid greetli; but thou, Lord, hou long?
6:5	Lord, be thou conuertid, and delyuere my soule; make thou me saaf, for thi merci.
6:6	For noon is in deeth, which is myndful of thee; but in helle who schal knouleche to thee?
6:7	I traueilide in my weilyng, Y schal waische my bed bi ech nyyt; Y schal moiste, `ether make weet, my bedstre with my teeris.
6:8	Myn iye is disturblid of woodnesse; Y waxe eld among alle myn enemyes.
6:9	Alle ye that worchen wickidnesse, departe fro me; for the Lord hath herd the vois of my wepyng.
6:10	The Lord hath herd my bisechyng; the Lord hath resseyued my preier.


6:1	Oh LORDE, rebuke me not in thine anger: Oh chaste me not in thy heuy displeasure.
6:2	Haue mercy vpon me (o LORDE) for I am weake: o LORDE heale me, for all my bones are vexed.
6:3	My soule also is in greate trouble, but LORDE how longe?
6:4	Turne the (o LORDE) & delyuer my soule: Oh saue me, for thy mercies sake.
6:5	For in death no man remebreth the: Oh who wil geue the thankes in the hell?
6:6	I am weery of gronynge: Euery night wasshe I my bedde, & water my couche with my teares.
6:7	My coutenauce is chaunged for very inwarde grefe, I cosume awaye, I haue so many enemies.
6:8	Awaye fro me all ye wicked doers, for the LORDE hath herde the voyce off my wepinge.
6:9	The LORDE hath herde myne humble peticio, the LORDE hath receaued my prayer.
6:10	All myne enemies shalbe cofounded & sore vexed: yee they shalbe turned backe and put to shame, and that right soone.