Matthew Parker [1504-1575]. The whole Psalter translated into English metre, which contayneth an hundreth and fifty Psalmes. (London, John Daye, 1567) [STC2 2729]
Miserere
mei deus
1 Have mercy God: on me I crave,
for thy great gentlenes:
Thy mercies force [?] on me vouchsave,
put out my sinfulnes.
2 But washe me depe: from all my sinne,
for deepely falne I am:
O clense me clere: wythout, wythin,
from synne that beastly came.
3 For I confesse: my wyckednes,
my state I fele most vyle:
In sight I beare: my giltines,
it doth myne eye reuyle.
4 To thee alone: I trespaced,
I find befor thyne eyes:
That just in word: thou mightst be tryed,
thou judge so pure to ryse.
5 Behold in sinne: I shapen was,
in natyve filth infect:
My mother me: conceyvd alas,
in sinne of Adams sect.
6 But lo thou hast: the truth well loved,
in hart alway to raigne:
Thys wisdome hid: to few approved,
thou shewest to me most playne.
7 Thou hast me purge wyth Isope grene,
so clensd, men me shall know:
Thou shalt me washe: to be full clene,
more whyte than is the snow.
8 Thou shalt make me: much joye to heare,
and rest for all my payne:
My shaken bones shalt them besteare,
and joye then once agayne.
9 From my misdedes: turne thou thy face,
I cannot say to oft:
From out thy bookes: my gilt I rase,
to feele thy mercy soft.
10 A puer hart: make thou in me,
O God both good and true:
A rightful sprite: wythin to be,
my soule agayne renue.
11 From open sight of thy swete face,
O lord reject me not:
Withdraw not thou: thy sprite of grace,
from me so desolate.
12 Thy joyfull health: restore wyth all,
to me thus tost wyth wo:
Wyth sprite most free: and principall,
strength me agayne to go.
13 Then wyll I teache: thy wayes for ryght,
to all the wycked sort:
That they to the: converted quyte,
for comfort may resort.
14 Ryd me from all: bloudgiltines,
thou God my God of health:
My tonge shal sing: thy ryghteousnes,
and just condemne my selfe.
15 O lord my lips: set open wyde,
in thankes to make them free:
So shall my mouth: on every side,
geve laudes most due to thee.
16 For then regardst: no sacrifice,
I would els geve it thee:
Nor yet requirst: by law precise,
our offrings brent that bee.
17 The sacrifice: to God elect,
is just a troubled sprite:
Good God thou wylt: no tyme reject
a broken hart contrite.
18 O shew thy grace: and favour yet,
to Syon Davids throne:
Jerusalem: that citie great,
build thou her wals of stone.
19 Then ryghteous hostes: thou shalt allow,
whole offrings burnt in sight:
Wyth sacrifice: of calfe and cow,
they shall thyne aulters dyght.