Scottish Psalter (1650)

First Version.

1 Lord, hear my pray'r, attend my suits;
and in thy faithfulness
Give thou an answer unto me,
and in thy righteousness.

2 Thy servant also bring thou not
in judgment to be tried:
Because no living man can be
in thy sight justified.

3 For th' en'my hath pursued my soul,
my life to ground down tread:
In darkness he hath made me dwell,
as who have long been dead.

4 My sp'rit is therefore overwhelmed
in me perplexedly;
Within me is my very heart
amazed wondrously.

5 I call to mind the days of old,
to meditate I use
On all thy works; upon the deeds
I of thy hands do muse.

6 My hands to thee I stretch; my soul
thirsts, as dry land, for thee.
7 Haste, Lord, to hear, my spirit fails:
hide not thy face from me;

Lest like to them I do become
that go down to the dust.
8 At morn let me thy kindness hear;
for in thee do I trust.

Teach me the way that I should walk:
I lift my soul to thee.
9 Lord, free me from my foes; I flee
to thee to cover me.

10 Because thou art my God, to do
thy will do me instruct:
Thy Sp'rit is good, me to the land
of uprightness conduct.

11 Revive and quicken me, O Lord,
ev'n for thine own name's sake;
And do thou, for thy righteousness,
my soul from trouble take.

12 And of thy mercy slay my foes;
let all destroyed be
That do afflict my soul: for I
a servant am to thee.

Second Version.

1 Oh, hear my prayer, Lord,
And unto my desire
To bow thine ear accord,
I humbly thee require;
And, in thy faithfulness,
Unto me answer make,
And, in thy righteousness,
Upon me pity take.

2 In judgment enter not
With me thy servant poor;
For why, this well I wot,
No sinner can endure
The sight of thee, O God:
If thou his deeds shalt try,
He dare make none abode
Himself to justify.

3 Behold, the cruel foe
Me persecutes with spite,
My soul to overthrow:
Yea, he my life down quite
Unto the ground hath smote,
And made me dwell full low
In darkness, as forgot,
Or men dead long ago.

4 Therefore my sp'rit much vexed,
O'erwhelmed is me within;
My heart right sore perplexed
And desolate hath been.
5 Yet I do call to mind
What ancient days record,
Thy works of ev'ry kind
I think upon, O Lord.

6 Lo, I do stretch my hands
To thee, my help alone;
For thou well understands
All my complaint and moan:
My thirsting soul desires,
And longeth after thee,
As thirsty ground requires
With rain refreshed to be.

7 Lord, let my pray'r prevail,
To answer it make speed;
For, lo, my sp'rit doth fail:
Hide not thy face in need;
Lest I be like to those
That do in darkness sit,
Or him that downward goes
Into the dreadful pit.

8 Because I trust in thee,
O Lord, cause me to hear
Thy loving-kindness free,
When morning doth appear:
Cause me to know the way
Wherein my path should be;
For why, my soul on high
I do lift up to thee.

9 From my fierce enemy
In safety do me guide,
Because I flee to thee,
Lord, that thou may'st me hide.
10 My God alone art thou,
Teach me thy righteousness:
Thy Sp'rit's good, lead me to
The land of uprightness.

11 O Lord, for thy name's sake,
Be pleased to quicken me;
And, for thy truth, forth take
My soul from misery.
12 And of thy grace destroy
My foes, and put to shame
All who my soul annoy;
For I thy servant am.