Psalms 120

1 A Song of the going up. In my trouble my cry went up to the Lord, and he gave me an answer.

The song of greces. Whanne Y was set in tribulacioun, Y criede to the Lord; and he herde me.

2 O Lord, be the saviour of my soul from false lips, and from the tongue of deceit.

Lord, delyuere thou my soule fro wickid lippis; and fro a gileful tunge.

3 What punishment will he give you? what more will he do to you, you false tongue?

What schal be youun to thee, ether what schal be leid to thee; to a gileful tunge?

4 Sharp arrows of the strong, and burning fire.

Scharpe arowis of the myyti; with colis that maken desolat.

5 Sorrow is mine because I am strange in Meshech, and living in the tents of Kedar.

Allas to me! for my dwelling in an alien lond is maad long, Y dwellide with men dwellinge in Cedar; my soule was myche a comelyng.

6 My soul has long been living with the haters of peace.

I was pesible with hem that hatiden pees;

7 I am for peace: but when I say so, they are for war.

whanne Y spak to hem, thei ayenseiden me with outen cause.