Wycl PSA Chapter 70

70 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.