1The `title of the threttenthe salm. To the victorie of Dauid. The vnwise man seide in his herte, God is not. Thei ben corrupt, and ben maad abhomynable in her studies; noon is that doith good, noon is til to oon.

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2The Lord bihelde fro heuene on the sones of men; that he se, if ony is vndurstondynge, ethir sekynge God.

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3Alle bowiden awei, togidere thei ben maad vnprofitable; noon is that doth good, noon is `til to oon. The throte of hem is an open sepulcre, thei diden gilefuli with her tungis; the venym of snakis is vndur her lippis. Whos mouth is ful of cursyng and bittirnesse; her feet ben swift to schede out blood. Sorewe and cursidnesse is in the weies of hem, and thei knewen not the weie of pees; the drede of God is not bifor her iyen.

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4Whether alle men that worchen wickidnesse schulen not knowe; that deuowren my puple, as mete of breed?

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5Thei clepeden not the Lord; thei trembliden there for dreed, where was no drede;

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6for the Lord is in a riytful generacioun. Thou hast schent the counsel of a pore man; for the Lord is his hope.

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7Who schal yyue fro Syon helthe to Israel? Whanne the Lord hath turned awei the caitifte of his puple; Jacob schal `fulli be ioiful, and Israel schal be glad.

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