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¹ Why art thou gone so farre of, o LORDE? wilt thou hyde thyselff in tyme of trouble?² Whyle ye vngodly hath the ouer hande, the poore must suffre persecucion: O that they were taken in the ymaginacions which they go aboute.³ For the vngodly maketh boost of his owne hertes desyre, the cuvetous blesseth him self, and blasphemeth the LORDE.⁴ The vngodly is so proude and full of indignacio, that he careth not: nether is God before his eyes.⁵ His wayes are allwaye filthie, thy iudgmentes are farre out of his sight, he defyeth all his enemies.⁶ For he sayeth in his herte: Tush, I shal neuer be cast downe, there shal no harme happe vnto me. His mouth is full of cursynge, fraude and disceate: vnder his toge is trauayle & sorow.⁷ He sytteth lurkynge in the gardens, that he maye pryuely murthur the innocent, his eyes are set vpo the poore.⁸ He lyeth waytinge secretly, as it were a lyon in his denne. He lurketh that he maye rauysh the poore,⁹ yee to rauish the poore, when he hath gotten him in to his nett.¹⁰ Then smyteth he, then oppresseth he & casteth downe the poore with his auctorite.¹¹ For he sayeth in his herte: Tush, God hath forgotten, he hath turned awaye his face, so yt he will neuer se it.

¹² Aryse o LORDE God, lift vp thine honde, and forget not the poore.¹³ Wherfore shulde the wicked blaspheme God, and saye in his herte: Tush, he careth not for it?¹⁴ This thou seist, for thou considrest the mysery and sorowe: The poore geueth himselff ouer in to thy hande, and committeth him vnto the, for thou art the helper of the frendlesse.¹⁵ Breake thou ye arme off the vngodly and malycious, search out the wickednesse which he hath done, that he maye perish.¹⁶ The LORDE is kynge for euer, ye Heithen shal perish out off his londe.¹⁷ LORDE, thou hearest the desyrous longinge off the poore: their herte is sure, that thine eare herkeneth therto.¹⁸ Helpe the fatherlesse and poore vnto their right, that the vngodly be nomore exalted vpon earth.