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A Song of degrees.

¶ Unto thee I lift up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest in the heavens.

Behold, as the eyes of slaves look unto the hand of their masters and as the eyes of a maiden unto the hand of her mistress, so our eyes wait upon the LORD our God, until he shall have mercy upon us.

Have mercy upon us, O LORD, have mercy upon us, for we are exceedingly weary of being held in contempt.

Our soul is exceedingly weary of the scorning of those that are at ease and of the contempt of the proud.

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