2 And we þæs on eorðan andgyt habbað, ure wegas wide geond þas werðeode on þinre hælo healdan motan.
For þon his mildheortnyss is mycel ofer us torhtlice getrymed, til mancynne, and soðfæstnys swylce Dryhtnes wunað ece awa to feore.
Þæt ys, þæt þu sealdest blisse minre heortan, and þin folc gemicladest, and him sealdest geniht hwætes and wines and eles and ealra gōda, þeah hi his ðe ne ðancien.
Mine fynd me cwædon yfel and wilnodon, and spræcon betwuh him and cwædon: “Hwonne ær he beo dead, oþþe hwænne his nama aspringe?”
Hwy eart þu unrot, min sawl, oþþe hwi gedrefest þu me? Hopa to Drihtne, for þam ic hine gyt andette; for þam þu eart, God, min hælend and min Dryhten.