Psalm 41

Psalm XLI.

To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.

^aBlessed is he that considereth the poor:

The Lord will ^bdeliver him in time of trouble.

²The Lord will preserve him, and keep him alive;

And he shall be blessed upon the earth:

And thou wilt not deliver him unto the will of his enemies.

³The Lord will ^bbstrengthen him upon the bed of languishing:

Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.

⁴I said, Lord, ^cbe merciful unto me:

^dHeal my soul; for I have sinned against thee.

⁵Mine enemies speak evil of me,

When shall he die, and his name perish?

⁶And if he come to see me, he ^espeaketh vanity:

His heart gathereth iniquity to itself;

When he goeth abroad, he telleth it.

⁷All that hate me whisper together against me:

Against me do they devise my hurt.

⁸An evil disease, say they, cleaveth fast unto him:

And now that he ^flieth he shall rise up no more.

^9gYea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted,

^hWhich did eat of my bread,

Hath lift up his heel against me.

¹⁰But thou, O Lord, ^cbe merciful unto me,

And raise me up, that I may requite them.

¹¹By this I know that thou favourest me,

Because mine enemy doth not triumph over me.

¹²And as for me, ⁱthou upholdest me in mine integrity,

And settest me before thy face for ever.

^13kBlessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting, and to everlasting. ^lAmen, and Amen.