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Psalm 9:13 - Psalms of David in Metre 1650 (Scottish Psalter)

13 Lord, pity me; behold the grief which I from foes sustain; Ev'n thou, who from the gates of death dost raise me up again;

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Más versiones

King James Version (Oxford) 1769

13 Have mercy upon me, O LORD; Consider my trouble which I suffer of them that hate me, Thou that liftest me up from the gates of death:

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Amplified Bible - Classic Edition

13 Have mercy upon me and be gracious to me, O Lord; consider how I am afflicted by those who hate me, You Who lift me up from the gates of death,

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American Standard Version (1901)

13 Have mercy upon me, O Jehovah; Behold my affliction which I suffer of them that hate me, Thou that liftest me up from the gates of death;

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Common English Bible

13 Have mercy on me, LORD! Just look how I suffer because of those who hate me. But you are the one who brings me back from the very gates of death

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Catholic Public Domain Version

13 Because of those who yearned for their blood, he has remembered them. He has not forgotten the cry of the poor.

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Psalm 9:13
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Because thy mercy toward me in greatness doth excel; And thou deliver'd hast my soul out from the lowest hell.


O Lord, my soul thou hast brought up, and rescu'd from the grave; That I to pit should not go down, alive thou didst me save.


Because I am brought very low, attend unto my cry: Me from my persecutors save, who stronger are than I.


Consider mine affliction, in safety do me set: Deliver me, O Lord, for I thy law do not forget.


Look on me, Lord, and merciful do thou unto me prove, As thou art wont to do to those thy name who truly love.


Wilt thou not, who from death me sav'd, my feet from falls keep free, To walk before God in the light of those that living be?


After thy loving-kindness, Lord, have mercy upon me: For thy compassions great, blot out all mine iniquity.


But yet mine en'mies lively are, and strong are they beside; And they that hate me wrongfully are greatly multiply'd.


Consider thou my foes, because they many are; And it a cruel hatred is which they against me bear.


O Lord my God, consider well, and answer to me make: Mine eyes enlighten, lest the sleep of death me overtake:


All kind of meat their soul abhors; they to death's gates draw near.


O Lord, do thou arise; O God, lift up thine hand on high: Put not the meek afflicted ones out of thy memory.


The words of God are words most pure; they be like silver try'd In earthen furnace, seven times that hath been purify'd.


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