To the Conductor of the Lute: and Bagpipes. 3 fzalm nf @ abit. Loan, strike me not in anger, And punish not in wrath; But pity, Loran, I languish, Relieve, for my bones ache! My soul is suffering grief, I am brought near to death. Cease, Loan, to strip my soul, And save for You are kind. In death they know not You, Nor give praise in the grave. Worn out with sighs I faint, Tears wet my bed all night. Mine eyes are worn with grief, My woes oppress like age. Turn from me all my passion, Hear, Loma, my tearful voice, Hear, LORD, my echoing groans, O LORD, accept ¤1Y Prayer! Let my foes fall completely, Be dishonoured, shamed, and fear. PSALM 7. IO Il I2 IO II Qt Qnmmt uf Quint:. lnlyzn be lppzaizh in the ¢Emzr·1ibiug against r ii): Qkrusatiun of gurl; tbz Qzuiaminitz. Srlmza I. Lxvme Gon! upon You is my trust, Save, and shelter from all who pursue, Lest they tear, like a lion, my life, And break me with none to defend. Lrvmo Gon! if I had done the thing, If there had been the crime in my hand, If I repaid kindness with hurt, And aimless assailed as my foe, Let my enemies hunt for my breath, And tread my life down to the earth, And my honour fling down to the dust. (367