Psalm 119. v. 81, to 88. (11. PART.)
The making God our hope.
MY soul for thy salvation faints
with vehement desire,
Yet doth thy word uphold my heart
with hope that cannot tire:
Mine eyes do fail for thy sweet word,
and thus they seem to say,
When wilt thou comfort me O Lord,
why dost thou thus delay?
For I am like a bottle, Lord,
that in the smoak is set,
Yet do not I at any time
thy holy word forget▪
But, Lord, how long must I compute
the time, to bear controll?
When wilt thou Judgment execute
on them that hunt my soul?
The proud have digged pits for me,
far from thy Law they are:
Thy precepts and their practices
do differ very far.
But thy commandments, O most high,
are faithfull, just, and true,
O help me, for most wrongfully
do they my soul pursue.