Hee blessed is who with wise temper can
Judg of th’afflicted man.
For God shall him deliver in the tyme,
When most his troubles clime.
The Lord will keepe his life yet safe & sound
With blessings of the ground.
And will not him unto the will expose,
Of them that be his foes.
When bedd from rest becoms his seate of woe,
In God his strength shall grow:
And turne his couch, where sick he couched late,
To well recovered state.
Therefore I said in most infirmity,
Have mercy Lord on me:
O heale my soule lett there thy cure beginne,
Where gainst thee lay my sinne.
My foes evill wordes, their hate of me display,
While thus alas they say:
When, when will death oretake this wretched wight,
And his name perish quite?
Their curteous vissittings, are courting lyes
They inward evills disgise,
Even heapes of wicked thoughts, which streight they show
As soone as out they goe.
For then their hatefull heades, close whispring be,
With hurtfull thoughts to me
Now he is wrackt, say they, loe there he lies,
Who never more must rise.
O, yea my frend, to whome I did impart
The secretts of my hart.
My freend, I say, who at my table sate,
Did kick against my state.
Therefore ô Lord, abandon’d thus of all,
On me lett mercy fall:
And raise me up, that I may once have might,
Their meritts to requite:
But what? this doth already well appeare
That I to thee am deere:
Since foes, nor have, nor shall have cause to be
Triumphing over me.
But triumph well may I, whome thou do’st stay
In my sound rightfull way:
Whom thou (ô place of places all) do’st place
For ay before thy face.
Soe then be blest now, then, at home, abroad,
Of Israell the god:
World without end, lett this his blessing flow,
Oh soe; oh be it soe.