Metrical 'New Version' (Tate/Brady)
1 My crafty foe, with flatt'ring art,
His wicked purpose would disguise;
But reason whispers to my heart,
He ne'er sets God before his eyes.
2 He soothes himself, retir'd from sight,
Secure he thinks his treach'rous game;
Till his dark plots, expos'd to light,
Their false contriver brand with shame.
3 In deeds he is my foe confess'd,
Whilst with his tongue he speaks me fair;
True wisdom's banish'd from his breast,
And vice has sole dominion there.
4 His wakeful malice spends the night
In forging his accurs'd designs;
His obstinate ungen'rous spite
No execrable means declines.
5 But, Lord, thy mercy, my sure hope,
Above the heav'nly orb ascends;
Thy sacred truth's unmeasur'd scope
Beyond the spreading sky extends.
6 Thy justice, like the hills, remains;
Unfathom'd depths thy judgments are;
Thy providence the world sustains;
The whole creation is thy care.
7 Since of thy goodness all partake,
With what assurance should the just
Thy shelt'ring wings their refuge make,
And saints to thy protection trust.
8 Such guests shall to thy courts be led
To banquet on thy love's repast;
And drink, as from a fountain's head,
Of joys that shall for ever last.
9 With thee the springs of life remain;
Thy presence is eternal day:
10 O let thy saints thy favour gain;
To upright hearts thy truth display.
11 Whilst pride's insulting foot would spurn,
And wicked hand my life surprise;
12 Their mischiefs on themselves return;
Down, down they're fall'n, no more to rise.
Metrical Paraphrase by William Kethe, 1561
1. The wicked deeds of the ill man,
Unto mine heart do witness plain:
That fear of God in him is none,
Though he himself would flatter fain:
His wickedness is judged and known.
2. His mouth is bent to vile deceit,
With ignorance he is replete.
And to do good he hath no will.
In bed he doth for mischief wait,
Full bent to seek the way most ill.
3. Thy mercies, Lord, to heaven reach,
Thy faithfulness the clouds do preach:
Thy righteousness as mountains huge,
Thy judgments deep no tongue can teach,
To man and beast Thou art refuge.
4. O God! how great Thy mercies be!
The sons of men do trust in Thee:
With Thee they shall be fully fed,
And thou wilt give them drink full free
Of pleasant rivers largely spread.
5. The well of life is Thine by right;
Thy brightness doth give us our light;
Thy favor, Lord, to such extend
As knowledge Thee with heart upright.
Thy righteousness to such men lend.
6. Let not the proud, O Lord, prevail;
Nor vain men's power make me to quail:
But lo, they fail in their device,
They mischief work with tooth and nail,
And fall, but can by no means rise.
Metrical Paraphrase by John Hopkins, 1562
1. The wicked with his works unjust
Doth thus pervade his heart:
That of the Lord he hath no trust,
His fear is set apart.
2. Yet doth he joy in his estate,
To walk as he began:
So long till he deserve the hate
Of God, and eke of man.
3. His works are wicked, vile, and naught,
His tongue no truth doth tell:
Yet at no hand will he be taught,
Which way he may do well.
4. When he should sleep then doth he muse
His mischiefs to fulfill:
No wicked ways doth he refuse,
Nor nothing that is ill.
5. But Lord, Thy goodness doth ascend
Above the heavens high:
So doth Thy truth itself extend
Unto the cloudy sky.
6. Much more than hills so high and steep,
Thy justice is expressed:
Thy judgments like to seas most deep,
Thou savest both man and beast.
7. Thy mercy is above all things,
O God, it doth excel:
In trust thereof as in Thy wings,
The sons of men shall dwell.
8. Within Thy house they shall be fed,
With plenty at their will:
Of all delights they shall be sped,
And take thereof their fill.
9. For why? The well of life so pure
Doth overflow from Thee:
And in Thy light we are full sure
The lasting light to see.
10. From such as Thee desire to know,
Let not Thy grace depart:
Thy righteousness declare, and show
To men of upright heart.
11. Nor let the proud on me prevail,
O Lord of Thy good grace,
Nor let the wicked me assail,
To throw me out of place.
12. But they in their device shall fall,
That wicked works maintain:
They shall be overthrown withal,
And never rise again.