Psalms 63

1 A psalm of David, when he was in the Judean desert. God, you are my God, I eagerly look for you. I am thirsty for you; all that I am longs for you in this dry, weary, waterless land.

`The salm of Dauid, `whanne he was in the desert of Judee. God, my God, Y wake to thee ful eerli. Mi soule thirstide to thee; my fleisch thirstide to thee ful many foold.

2 I see you in the Temple; I watch your power and glory.

In a lond forsakun with out wei, and with out water, so Y apperide to thee in hooli; that Y schulde se thi vertu, and thi glorie.

3 Your trustworthy love is better than life itself; I will praise you.

For thi merci is betere than lyues; my lippis schulen herie thee.

4 I will thank you as long as I live; I lift up my hands as I celebrate your wonderful character.

So Y schal blesse thee in my lijf; and in thi name Y schal reise myn hondis.

5 You satisfy me more than the richest food; I will praise you with joyful songs.

Mi soule be fillid as with inner fatnesse and vttermere fatnesse; and my mouth schal herie with lippis of ful out ioiyng.

6 I think of you all night long as I lie on my bed meditating about you.

So Y hadde mynde on thee on my bed, in morewtidis Y shal thenke of thee;

7 For you are the one who helps me; I sing happily from under your wings.

for thou were myn helpere. And in the keueryng of thi wyngis Y schal make `ful out ioye, my soule cleuede after thee;

8 I hold on to you; your strong arms lift me up.

thi riythond took me vp.

9 Those who are trying to destroy me will go down into the grave.

Forsothe thei souyten in veyn my lijf, thei schulen entre in to the lower thingis of erthe;

10 They will be killed by the sword; they will become food for jackals.

thei schulen be bitakun in to the hondis of swerd, thei schulen be maad the partis of foxis.

11 But the king will be happy for what God has done. All who follow God will praise him, but those who tell lies will be silenced.

But the king schal be glad in God; and alle men schulen be preysid that sweren in hym, for the mouth of hem, that speken wickid thingis, is stoppid.