Psalm 77

Voce mea ad Dominum

I will cry unto God with my voice *

even unto God will I cry with my voice, and he shall hearken unto me.

In the time of my trouble I sought the Lord *

my sore ran and ceased not in the night-season ; my soul refused comfort.

When I am in heaviness, I will think upon God *

when my heart is vexed, I will complain.

Thou holdest mine eyes waking *

I am so feeble, that I cannot speak.

I have considered the days of old *

and the years that are past.

I call to remembrance my song *

and in the night I commune with mine own heart, and search out my spirits.

Will the Lord absent himself for ever *

and will he be no more intreated?

Is his mercy clean gone for ever *

and is his promise come utterly to an end for evermore?

Hath God forgotten to be gracious *

and will he shut up his loving-kindness in displeasure?

And I said, It is mine own infirmity *

but I will remember the years of the right hand of the most Highest.

I will remember the works of the Lord *

and call to mind thy wonders of old time.

I will think also of all thy works *

and my talking shall be of thy doings.

Thy way, O God, is holy *

who is so great a God as our God?

Thou art the God that doeth wonders *

and hast declared thy power among the people.

Thou hast mightily delivered thy people *

even the sons of Jacob and Joseph.

The waters saw thee, O God, the waters saw thee, and were afraid *

the depths also were troubled.

The clouds poured out water, the air thundered *

and thine arrows went abroad.

The voice of thy thunder was heard round about *

the lightnings shone upon the ground; the earth was moved, and shook withal.

Thy way is in the sea, and thy paths in the great waters *

and thy footsteps are not known.

Thou leddest thy people like sheep *

by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

Psalm 79

Deus, venerunt

O God, the heathen are come into thine inheritance *

thy holy temple have they defiled, and made Jerusalem an heap of stones.

The dead bodies of thy servants have they given to be meat unto the fowls of the air *

and the flesh of thy saints unto the beasts of the land.

Their blood have they shed like water on every side of Jerusalem *

and there was no man to bury them.

We are become an open shame to our enemies *

a very scorn and derision unto them that are round about us.

Lord, how long wilt thou be angry *

shall thy jealousy burn like fire for ever?

Pour out thine indignation upon the heathen that have not known thee *

and upon the kingdoms that have not called upon thy Name.

For they have devoured Jacob *

and laid waste his dwelling-place.

O remember not our old sins, but have mercy upon us, and that soon *

for we are come to great misery.

Help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of thy Name *

O deliver us, and be merciful unto our sins, for thy Name’s sake.

Wherefore do the heathen say *

Where is now their God?

O let the vengeance of thy servants’ blood that is shed *

be openly shewed upon the heathen in our sight.

O let the sorrowful sighing of the prisoners come before thee *

according to the greatness of thy power, preserve thou those that are appointed to die.

And for the blasphemy wherewith our neighbours have blasphemed thee *

reward thou them , O Lord, seven-fold into their bosom.

So we, that are thy people, and sheep of thy pasture, shall give thee thanks for ever *

and will alway be shewing forth thy praise from generation to generation.