Psalms 43

1 God, deme thou me, and departe thou my cause fro a folc not hooli; delyuere thou me fro a wickid man, and gileful.

Right me, defend my cause against a pitiless people. From the crafty and crooked, O God, deliver me.

2 For thou art God, my strengthe; whi hast thou put me abac, and whi go Y soreuful, while the enemy turmentith me?

For you are God my protector: why have you cast me off? Why must I walk so sadly, so hard pressed by the foe?

3 Sende out thi liyt, and thi treuthe; tho ledden me forth, and brouyten in to thin hooli hil, and in to thi tabernaclis.

Send forth your light and your truth, let them be my guides: to your holy hill let them bring me, to the place where you live.

4 And Y schal entre to the auter of God; to God, that gladith my yongthe. God, my God, Y schal knowleche to thee in an harpe; my soule,

Then will I go to God’s altar, to God my rejoicing; and with joy on the lyre I will praise you, O God, my God.

5 whi art thou sory, and whi troblist thou me? Hope thou in God, for yit Y schal knouleche to hym; he is the helthe of my cheer, and my God.

Why am I downcast? Why this moaning within me? Hope in God; for yet will I praise him, my help, my God.