[A song of degrees.] Vnto thee lift I vp mine eyes: O thou that dwellest in the heauens.
Beholde, as the eyes of seruants looke vnto the hand of their Masters, and as the eyes of a maiden, vnto the hand of her mistresse: so our eyes waite vpon the Lord our God, vntill that he haue mercy vpon vs.
Haue mercy vpon vs, O Lord, haue mercy vpon vs: for we are exceedingly filled with contempt.
Our soule is exceedingly filled with the scorning of those that are at ease: and with the contempt of the proud.