PARAPHRASE OF PSALM VI.
By W. C. G.
In thy fierce anger, Lord, rebuke me not,
Nor may thy hot displeasure be my lot;
Thy mercy, O my God, on me bestow,
For I am weak, and sore, and full of woe.
My very bones are vexed with sorrow strong;
To me return, my God, O Lord, how long?
My soul deliver for thy mercies’ sake,
Nor let me of death’s awful pangs partake.
In death, remembrance of our God doth end,
And from the grave no thanks to thee ascend.
I’m wearied with my groanings and my fears,
And all the night my bed doth swim with tears.
Mine eye consumeth by reason of my grief,
And waxeth old; O Lord, now send relief. Ye workers of iniquity, from me depart,
The Lord my weeping hears, and stills my heart.
My supplications to his ear ascend,
My prayer is heard, my sorrows soon will end.
Then let my foes confused and vexed retire,
With sudden shame before the Lord’s fierce ire.