Psalms 141

1 `The salm `of Dauith. Lord, Y criede to thee, here thou me; yyue thou tent to my vois, whanne Y schal crye to thee.

“For the leader of the music. A psalm of David.” I cry to thee, O LORD! make haste unto me! Give ear to my voice, when I cry unto thee!

2 Mi preier be dressid as encense in thi siyt; the reisyng of myn hondis be as the euentid sacrifice.

Let my prayer come before thee as incense, And the lifting-up of my hands, as the evening sacrifice!

3 Lord, sette thou a keping to my mouth; and a dore of stonding aboute to my lippis.

Set a watch, O LORD! before my mouth; Guard the door of my lips!

4 Bowe thou not myn herte in to wordis of malice; to excuse excusingis in synne. With men worchinge wickidnesse; and Y schal not comyne with the chosun men of hem.

Let not my heart incline to any evil thing; Let me not practise wickedness with the doers of iniquity, And let me not eat of their delicacies!

5 A iust man schal repreue me in mersi, and schal blame me; but the oile of a synner make not fat myn heed. For whi and yit my preier is in the wel plesaunt thingis of hem;

Let the righteous smite me, —it shall be a kindness; Let him reprove me, and it shall be oil for my head; Let him do it again, and my head shall not refuse it; But now I pray against their wickedness!

6 for the domesmen of hem ioyned to the stoon weren sopun vp. Here thei my wordis,

When their judges are hurled over the side of the rock, They shall hear how pleasant are my words.

7 for tho weren myyti. As fatnesse is brokun out on the erthe; oure bonys ben scatered niy helle. Lord, Lord, (Sheol h7585)

So are our bones scattered at the mouth of the underworld, As when one furroweth and ploweth up the land. (Sheol h7585)

8 for myn iyen ben to thee, Y hopide in thee; take thou not awei my soule.

But to thee do my eyes look, O Lord Jehovah! In thee is my trust; Let not my life be poured out!

9 Kepe thou me fro the snare which thei ordeyneden to me; and fro the sclaundris of hem that worchen wickidnesse. Synneris schulen falle in the nett therof;

Preserve me from the snares which they have laid for me, And from the nets of evil-doers!

10 Y am aloone til Y passe.

Let the wicked fall together into their own traps, Whilst I make my escape!