Pslam 51
This translation is from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer and is used in Ivor Atkins’ English edition of the Miserere (published by Novello):
Have mercy upon me, O God: after Thy great goodness.
According to the multitude of Thy mercies, do away mine offences.
Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness: and cleanse me from my sin.
For I acknowledge my faults: and my sin is ever before me.
Against Thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that Thou mightest be justified in Thy saying, and clear when Thou art judged.
Behold, I was shapen in wickedness: and in sin hath my mother conceived me.
But lo, Thou requirest truth in the inward parts: and shalt make me to understand wisdom secretly.
Thou shalt purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: Thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Thou shalt make me hear of joy and gladness: that the bones which Thou hast broken may rejoice.
Turn Thy face from my sins: and put out all my misdeeds.
Make me a clean heart, O God: and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from Thy presence: and take not Thy Holy Spirit from me.
O give me the comfort of Thy help again: and stablise me with Thy free Spirit.
Then shall I teach Thy ways unto the wicked: and sinners shall be converted unto Thee.
Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God, Thou that art the God of my health: and my tongue shall sing of Thy righteousness.
Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord: and my mouth shall shew [show] Thy praise.
For Thou desirest no sacrifice, else would I give it Thee: but Thou delightest not in burnt-offerings.
The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit: a broken and contrite heart, O God, shalt Thou not despise.
O be favourable and gracious unto Sion: build Thou the walls of Jerusalem.
Then shalt Thou be pleased with the sacrifice of righteousness, with the burnt-offerings and oblations: then shall they offer young bullocks upon Thine altar.
Today May 1st 2020
After death a grateful feeling comes
My redemption is above me in her study
Ring a ring of roses
Covidspring now Covidsummer
To every season
There is reason
To every moment
An effort at truth
Perished fledglings
For which there is no word
A clean heart not enough
Did not wash your hands
Underlying conditions
Delays in operations
Perished fledglings
Stabilize us
with your spirit
I,
we,
you.
My health shall sing of you
Frontline workers
NHS returners
Bus drivers
Shelf packers
My health shall sing of you
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
Virus deniers and their listeners
Do away with their offences
Wash them thoroughly of their wickedness
They went out to play
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
Politicians decided
But I, we, you, could not be alone
So decided to not
Dial that number on the bridge
Intimate partners murdered
Who should have been alone
Children abused
I, We, You, cannot look
Have mercy that we did not see, act, do
Spring is over
Shall we mark the graves by the choices which killed them
Shall we rise now
We all fell down
A generation consumed
Eating apples of hate
Our sin is ever before us
Renew a right spirit within
troubled spirit
broken and contrite heart
In that voice that rises in Miserere*
We hope and keep busy
Our redemption is in everyone
My redemption is above me in her study
Have mercy that we did not see, act, do
1st May 2020
*At 1:38 seconds in this version to be precise
