Wycliffe(i)
1 The seuentithe salm hath no title. Lord, Y hopide in thee, be Y not schent with outen ende;
2 in thi riytwisnesse delyuere thou me, and rauysche me out. Bowe doun thin eere to me; and make me saaf.
3 Be thou to me in to God a defendere; and in to a strengthid place, that thou make me saaf. For thou art my stidefastnesse; and my refuit.
4 My God, delyuere thou me fro the hoond of the synner; and fro the hoond of a man doynge ayens the lawe, and of the wickid man.
5 For thou, Lord, art my pacience; Lord, thou art myn hope fro my yongthe.
6 In thee Y am confermyd fro the wombe; thou art my defendere fro the wombe of my modir.
7 My syngyng is euere in thee; Y am maad as a greet wonder to many men; and thou art a strong helpere.
8 My mouth be fillid with heriyng; that Y synge thi glorie, al dai thi greetnesse.
9 Caste thou not awei me in the tyme of eldnesse; whanne my vertu failith, forsake thou not me.
10 For myn enemyes seiden of me; and thei that kepten my lijf maden counsel togidere.
11 Seiynge, God hath forsake hym; pursue ye, and take hym; for noon is that schal delyuere.
12 God, be thou not maad afer fro me; my God, biholde thou in to myn help.
13 Men that bacbiten my soule, be schent, and faile thei; and be thei hilid with schenschip and schame, that seken yuels to me.
14 But Y schal hope euere; and Y schal adde euere ouer al thi preising.
15 Mi mouth schal telle thi riytfulnesse; al dai thin helthe. For Y knewe not lettrure, Y schal entre in to the poweres of the Lord;
16 Lord, Y schal bithenke on thi riytfulnesse aloone.
17 God, thou hast tauyt me fro my yongthe, and `til to now; Y schal telle out thi merueilis.
18 And til in to `the eldnesse and the laste age; God, forsake thou not me. Til Y telle thin arm; to eche generacioun, that schal come. Til Y telle thi myyt,
19 and thi riytfulnesse, God, til in to the hiyeste grete dedis which thou hast do; God, who is lijk thee?
20 Hou grete tribulaciouns many and yuele hast thou schewid to me; and thou conuertid hast quykenyd me, and hast eft brouyt me ayen fro the depthis of erthe.
21 Thou hast multiplied thi greet doyng; and thou conuertid hast coumfortid me.
22 For whi and Y schal knowleche to thee, thou God, thi treuthe in the instrumentis of salm; Y schal synge in an harpe to thee, that art the hooli of Israel.
23 Mi lippis schulen make fulli ioye, whanne Y schal synge to thee; and my soule, which thou ayen bouytist.
24 But and my tunge schal thenke al dai on thi riytfulnesse; whanne thei schulen be schent and aschamed, that seken yuelis to me.