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PSAL. XXXVIII. A Psalm of David to bring to remembrance. (Book 38)
IN thy great indignation,
O Lord, rebuke me not:
Nor on me lay thy chastning hand,
in thy displeasure hot.
For in me fast thine arrows stick,Line 2
thine hand doth presse me sore.
And in my flesh there is no healthLine 3
nor soundnesse any more.
This grief I have, because thy wrath
is forth against me gone:
And in my bones there is no rest,
for sin that I have done.
Because, gone up above mine headLine 4
my great transgressions be:
And, as a weightie burden, they
too heavy are for me.
My wounds do stink, and are corrupt:Line 5
my folly makes it so.
I troubled am, and much bow'd down;Line 6
all day I mourning go.
For a disease that loathsome is,Line 7
so fills my loins with pain.
That in my weak and wearie flesh
no soundnesse doth remain.
So feeble and infirm am I,Line 8
and broken am so sore;
That through disquiet of my heart,