1 In thy great indignation,
O Lord, rebuke me not;
Nor on me lay thy chast ‘ning hand,
in thy displeasure hot.
2 Lord, I am weak, therefore on me
have mercy, and me spare:
Heal me, O Lord, because thou know’st
my bones much vexed are.
3 My soul is vexed sore: but, Lord,
how long stay wilt thou make?
4 Return, Lord, free my soul; and save
me, for thy mercies’ sake.
5 Because of thee in death there shall
no more remembrance be:
Of those that in the grave do lie,
who shall give thanks to thee?
6 I with my groaning weary am,
and all the night my bed
I caused for to swim; with tears
my couch I watered.
7 By reason of my vexing grief,
mine eye consumed is;
It waxeth old, because of all
that be mine enemies.
8 But now, depart from me all ye
that work iniquity:
For why? the Lord hath heard my voice,
when I did mourn and cry.
9 Unto my supplication
the Lord did hearing give:
When I to him my prayer make,
the Lord will it receive.
10 Let all be sham’d and troubled sore,
That en’mies are to me;
Let them turn back, and suddenly
ashamed let them be.
Scottish Psalter and Paraphrases, 1781