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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.