The Bible


Hiarn, ny cur oghsan dooys ayns dty chorree: chamoo smaghtee mee ayns dty yymmoose.

O Lord, rebuke me not in thine indignation: neither chasten me in thy displeasure.


Jean myghin orrym, O Hiarn, son ta mee annoon: O Hiarn, slaanee mee, son ta my chraueyn seaghnit.

Have mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am weak: O Lord, heal me, for my bones are vexed.


Ta son-aigney trome myrgeddin orrym: agh, Hiarn, caïd nee oo mish y cherraghey?

My soul also is sore troubled: but, Lord, how long wilt thou punish me?


Chyndaa uss, O Hiarn, as livrey m'annym: O saue mee er graih dty vyghinyn.

Turn thee, O Lord, and deliver my soul: O save me for thy mercy's sake.


Son ayns baase cha vel dooinney erbee cooinaghtyn orts: as quoi ver moylley dhyts ayns yn oaie?

For in death no man remembereth thee: and who will give thee thanks in the pit!


Ta mee deinagh lesh gaccan; dy chooilley oie ta mee gushtaghey my lhiabbee: as fluighey my lhiabbee: as fluighey my lhiaght lesh my yeïr.

I am weary of my groaning: every night wash I my bed, and water my couch with my tears.


Ta my aalid er n'immeeaght lesh eer seaghyn: as er ny lheïe ersooyl kyndagh rish ooilley my noidyn.

My beauty is gone for very trouble: and worn away because of all mine enemies.


Ersooyl voym shiuish ooilley ta gobbraghey molteyrys: son ta'n Chiarn er chlashtyn coraa my ghobberan.

Away from me, all ye that work vanity: for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.


Ta'n Chiarn er chlashtyn my accan: nee'n Chiarn soiaghey jeh my phadjer.

The Lord hath heard my petition: the Lord will receive my prayer.


Bee ooilley my noidyn er nyn stroie as dy trome seaghnit: chyndaa-ee ad nyn gooyl, as hig ad gys nearey doaltattym.

All mine enemies shall be confounded, and sore vexed: they shall be turned back, and put to shame suddenly.