Psalm 139

Domine, probasti

O Lord, thou hast searched me out and known me *

thou knowest my down-sitting and mine up-rising, thou understandest my thoughts long before.

Thou art about my path, and about my bed *

and spiest out all my ways.

For lo, there is not a word in my tongue *

but thou, O Lord, knowest it altogether.

Thou hast fashioned me behind and before *

and laid thine hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful and excellent for me *

I cannot attain unto it.

Whither shall I go then from thy Spirit *

or whither shall I go then from thy presence?

If I climb up into heaven, thou art there *

if I go down to hell, thou art there also.

If I take the wings of the morning *

and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea;

Even there also shall thy hand lead me *

and thy right hand shall hold me.

If I say, Peradventure the darkness shall cover me *

then shall my night be turned to day.

Yea, the darkness is no darkness with thee, but the night is as clear as the day *

the darkness and light to thee are both alike.

For my reins are thine *

thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb.

I will give thanks unto thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made *

marvellous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right well.

My bones are not hid from thee *

though I be made secretly, and fashioned beneath in the earth.

Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect *

and in thy book were all my members written;

Which day by day were fashioned *

when as yet there was none of them.

How dear are thy counsels unto me, O God *

O how great is the sum of them!

If I tell them, they are more in number than the sand *

when I wake up I am present with thee.

Wilt thou not slay the wicked, O God *

depart from me, ye blood-thirsty men.

For they speak unrighteously against thee *

and thine enemies take thy Name in vain.

Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee *

and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee?

Yea, I hate them right sore *

even as though they were mine enemies.

Try me, O God, and seek the ground of my heart *

prove me, and examine my thoughts.

Look well if there be any way of wickedness in me *

and lead me in the way everlasting.

Psalm 140

Eripe me, Domine

Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man *

and preserve me from the wicked man.

Who imagine mischief in their hearts *

and stir up strife all the day long.

They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent *

adders’ poison is under their lips.

Keep me, O Lord, from the hands of the ungodly *

preserve me from the wicked men, who are purposed to overthrow my goings.

The proud have laid a snare for me, and spread a net abroad with cords *

yea, and set traps in my way.

I said unto the Lord, Thou art my God *

hear the voice of my prayers, O Lord.

O Lord God, thou strength of my health *

thou hast covered my head in the day of the battle.

Let not the ungodly have his desire, O Lord *

let not his mischievous imagination prosper, lest they be too proud.

Let the mischief of their own lips fall upon the head of them *

that compass me about.

Let hot burning coals fall upon them *

let them be cast into the fire and into the pit, that they never rise up again.

A man full of words shall not prosper upon the earth *

evil shall hunt the wicked person to overthrow him.

Sure I am that the Lord will avenge the poor *

and maintain the cause of the helpless.

The righteous also shall give thanks unto thy Name *

and the just shall continue in thy sight.

Psalm 141

Domine, clamavi

Lord, I call upon thee, haste thee unto me *

and consider my voice when I cry unto thee.

Let my prayer be set forth in thy sight as the incense *

and let the lifting up of my hands be an evening sacrifice.

Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth *

and keep the door of my lips.

O let not mine heart be inclined to any evil thing *

let me not be occupied in ungodly works with the men that work wickedness, lest I eat of such things as please them.

Let the righteous rather smite me friendly *

and reprove me.

But let not their precious balms break my head *

yea, I will pray yet against their wickedness.

Let their judges be overthrown in stony places *

that they may hear my words, for they are sweet.

Our bones lie scattered before the pit *

like as when one breaketh and heweth wood upon the earth.

But mine eyes look unto thee, O Lord God *

in thee is my trust , O cast not out my soul.

Keep me from the snare that they have laid for me *

and from the traps of the wicked doers.

Let the ungodly fall into their own nets together *

and let me ever escape them.