(Of David. A maskil.)
Blessed are they who have their faults forgiven, their transgressions buried deep;

blessed is the man who is not guilty in the Lord’s reckoning, the heart that hides no treason.

While I kept my own secret, evermore I went sighing, so wasted my frame away,

bowed down day and night by thy chastisement; still my strength ebbed, faint as in mid-summer heat.

At last I made my transgression known to thee, and hid my sin no longer; Fault of mine, said I, I here confess to the Lord; and with that, thou didst remit the guilt of my sin.

Let every devout soul, then, turn to thee in prayer when hard times befall; rise the floods never so high, they shall have no power to reach it.

Thou art my hiding-place, when I am sore bestead; songs of triumph are all about me, and thou my deliverer.

Friend, let me counsel thee, trace for thee the path thy feet should tread; let my prudence watch over thee.

Do not be like the horse and the mule, senseless creatures which will not come near thee unless their spirit is tamed by bit and bridle.

Again and again the sinner must feel the lash; he who trusts in the Lord finds nothing but mercy all around him.

Just souls, be glad, and rejoice in the Lord; true hearts, make your boast in him.