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Psalm 41 1 Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the LORD will deliver him in time of trouble.2 The 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.3 The LORD will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing: thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.4 I said, LORD, be merciful unto me: heal my soul; for I have sinned against thee.5 Mine enemies speak evil of me, When shall he die, and his name perish?6 And if he come to see me, he speaketh vanity: his heart gathereth iniquity to itself; when he goeth abroad, he telleth it.7 All that hate me whisper together against me: against me do they devise my hurt.8 An evil disease, say they, cleaveth fast unto him: and now that he lieth he shall rise up no more.9 Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me.10 But thou, O LORD, be merciful unto me, and raise me up, that I may requite them.11 By this I know that thou favourest me, because mine enemy doth not triumph over me.12 And as for me, thou upholdest me in mine integrity, and settest me before thy face for ever.13 Blessed be the LORD God of Israel from everlasting, and to everlasting. Amen, and Amen.

Psalm 42 1 As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.2 My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?3 My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?4 When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday.5 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.6 O my God, my soul is cast down within me: therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.7 Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.