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¹ Prayse the LORDE (o my soule:) whyle I lyue wil I prayse the LORDE, yee as loge as I haue eny beynge, I wil synge prayses vnto my God.² O put not yor trust in prynces, ner in the childe of man, for there is no helpe in the.³ For when ye breth of man goeth forth, he shal turne agayne to his earth, and so all his thoughtes perishe.⁴ Blessed is he that hath ye God of Iacob for his helpe, and whose hope is in the LORDE his God.

⁵ Which made heauen and earth, ye see and all that therin is, which kepeth his promise for euer⁶ Which helpeth them to right yt suffre wronge, which fedeth ye hongrie.⁷ The LORDE lowseth men out of preson, the LORDE geueth sight to the blynde.⁸ The LORDE helpeth the vp that are fallen, the LORDE loueth the righteous.⁹ The LORDE careth for the straungers, he defendeth ye fatherlesse and wyddowe: as for the waye of ye vngodly, he turneth it vpsyde downe.¹⁰ The LORDE thy God (o Sion) is kynge for euermore, and thorow out all generacions. Halleluya.