The Thirty-seventh Psalm.

The Psalmist, in sickness, and neglected by his friends, begs of God to pardon his sins, and to assist and heal him.

O Lord, rebuke me not in thy indignation, nor chastise me in thy wrath.

For thy arrows are fastened in me: and thy hand hath been strong upon me.

There is no health in my flesh, because of thy wrath: there is no peace in my bones, because of my sins.

For mine iniquities are gone over my head: and, as a weighty burden, are become heavy upon me.

My sores are putrefied and corrupted, because of my foolishness.

I am become miserable, and am bowed down even to the end: I walked sorrowful all the day.

For my loins are filled with illusions: and there is no health in my flesh.

I am afflicted and humbled exceedingly: I roared in the groaning of my heart.