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Psal 3 (MS. Fairfax 40, The Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford)


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Psal 3
Psal 3
"Psal 3". MS. Fairfax 40, The Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford.

Transcription

Lord How my soule these troublers of my soule Lord increase
Sweld big wth envie, as in numbers many
Who 'gainst me rise as tumultious leafs
In God nNo helpe for him in god say they, is any
But thou wilt Lord my head lift up noe doubt
Thy glory as shield shal compas me about

Lord when my soule wth feares surounded was
Stright thou didst heare me from thy sacred hill
I laid me downe to rest & Lord thou hast
From danger beene my great deliuerer still
Ô Fear nott then my soule although sense ther are
Sett mMore then ten-thousand sett gainst me in war

Rise Lord who saves the victory's thy owne
the enuious bitts noe more ther teeth is outt
Thyn enimys are smite on the cheek bone
Thou in powre hast putt them all to rout
Saluation is the Lord's who euer liues
Tis he thatt blessings to his people giues

Modernized Text

Lord, how these troublers of my soul increase,
Swelled big with envy, as in numbers many,
Who 'gainst me rise as tumultuous leaves.
No help for him in God, say they, is any.
But thou wilt, Lord, my head lift up, no doubt;
Thy glory as shield shall compass me about.

Lord, when my soul with fears surounded was,
Straight thou didst hear me from thy sacred hill.
I laid me down to rest and, Lord, thou hast
From danger been my great deliverer still.
Oh fear not then, my soul, although there are
More than ten thousand set 'gainst me in war.

Rise, Lord, who saves: the victory's thy own.
The envious bite no more; ther teeth is out.
Thine enemies are smit on the cheek bone;
Thou in power hast put them all to rout.
Salvation is the Lord's. Whoever lives,
'Tis he that blessings to his people gives.

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