Psalms 21: Thanksgiving for the King's Victory
A crown of gold and answered prayers after Psalms 20's request.
This chapter answers the request made in Psalms 20, celebrating that the king's heart's desire has been granted and a crown of pure gold set on his head, with length of days given him forever and ever.
The `title of the oon and twentithe salm. To ouercome, for `the morewtid hynd; the salm of Dauid.
God, my God, biholde thou on me, whi hast thou forsake me? the wordis of my trespassis ben fer fro myn helthe.
Mi God, Y schal crye bi dai, and thou schalt not here; and bi nyyt, and not to vnwisdom to me.
Forsothe thou, the preisyng of Israel, dwellist in holynesse;
oure fadris hopiden in thee, thei hopiden, and thou delyueridist hem.
Thei crieden to thee, and thei weren maad saaf; thei hopiden in thee, and thei weren not schent.
But Y am a worm, and not man; the schenschip of men, and the outcastyng of the puple.
Alle men seynge me scorneden me; thei spaken with lippis, and stiriden the heed.
He hopide in the Lord, delyuere he hym; make he hym saaf, for he wole hym.
For thou it art that drowist me out of the wombe, thou art myn hope fro the tetis of my modir;
in to thee Y am cast forth fro the wombe. Fro the wombe of my modir thou art my God; departe thou not fro me.
For tribulacioun is next; for noon is that helpith.
Many calues cumpassiden me; fatte bolis bisegiden me.
Thei openyden her mouth on me; as doith a lioun rauyschynge and rorynge.
I am sched out as watir; and alle my boonys ben scaterid. Myn herte is maad, as wex fletynge abrood; in the myddis of my wombe.
Mi vertu driede as a tiyl stoon, and my tunge cleuede to my chekis; and thou hast brouyt forth me in to the dust of deth.
For many doggis cumpassiden me; the counsel of wickid men bisegide me. Thei delueden myn hondis and my feet;
thei noumbriden alle my boonys. Sotheli thei lokiden, and bihelden me;
thei departiden my clothis to hem silf, and thei senten lot on my cloth.
But thou, Lord, delaie not thin help fro me; biholde thou to my defence.
God, delyuere thou my lijf fro swerd; and delyuere thou myn oon aloone fro the hond of the dogge.
Make thou me saaf fro the mouth of a lioun; and my mekenesse fro the hornes of vnycornes.
I schal telle thi name to my britheren; Y schal preise thee in the myddis of the chirche.
Ye that dreden the Lord, herie hym; alle the seed of Jacob, glorifie ye hym.
Al the seed of Israel drede hym; for he forsook not, nethir dispiside the preier of a pore man. Nethir he turnede awei his face fro me; and whanne Y criede to hym, he herde me.
Mi preisyng is at thee in a greet chirche; Y schal yelde my vowis in the siyt of men dredynge hym.
Pore men schulen ete, and schulen be fillid, and thei schulen herie the Lord, that seken hym; the hertis of hem schulen lyue in to the world of world.
Alle the endis of erthe schulen bithenke; and schulen be conuertid to the Lord. And alle the meynees of hethene men; schulen worschipe in his siyt.
For the rewme is the Lordis; and he schal be Lord of hethene men.
Alle the fatte men of erthe eeten and worschipiden; alle men, that goen doun in to erthe, schulen falle doun in his siyt.
And my soule schal lyue to hym; and my seed schal serue him.
A generacioun to comyng schal be teld to the Lord; and heuenes schulen telle his riytfulnesse to the puple that schal be borun, whom the Lord made.