[1]The title of the foure and eiytetithe salm. Of the sones of Chore.[2]Lord, thou hast blessid thi lond; thou hast turned awei the caitifte of Jacob.[3]Thou hast foryoue the wickidnesse of thi puple; thou hast hilid alle the synnes of hem.[4]Thou hast aswagid al thin ire; thou hast turned awei fro the ire of thin indignacioun.[5]God, oure helthe, conuerte thou vs; and turne awei thin ire fro vs.[6]Whether thou schalt be wrooth to vs withouten ende; ether schalt thou holde forth thin ire fro generacioun in to generacioun?[7]God, thou conuertid schalt quykene vs; and thi puple schal be glad in thee.[8]Lord, schewe thi merci to vs; and yyue thin helthe to vs.[9]I schal here what the Lord God schal speke in me; for he schal speke pees on his puple. And on hise hooli men; and on hem that ben turned to herte.[10]Netheles his helthe is niy men dredynge him; that glorie dwelle in oure lond.[11]Merci and treuthe metten hem silf; riytwisnesse and pees weren kissid.[12]Treuthe cam forth of erthe; and riytfulnesse bihelde fro heuene.