Unto the end, in verses, a psalm for David, for the octave.

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² O Lord, rebuke me not in thy indignation, nor chastise me in thy wrath.

³ Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am weak: heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled.

⁴ And my soul is troubled exceedingly: but thou, O Lord, how long?

⁵ Turn to me, O Lord, and deliver my soul: O save me for thy mercy's sake.

⁶ For there is no one in death, that is mindful of thee: and who shall confess to thee in hell?

⁷ I have laboured in my groanings, every night I will wash my bed: I will water my couch with my tears.

⁸ My eye is troubled through indignation: I have grown old amongst all my enemies.

⁹ Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity: for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.

¹⁰ The Lord hath heard my supplication: the Lord hath received my prayer.

¹¹ Let all my enemies be ashamed and be very much troubled: let them be turned back and be ashamed very speedily.