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5 Wherefore, in that sad doome,

They dare not rise from dust :
Nor shall no sinner come,
To glory of the just.

For, God will grace
The just man's way ;
While sinners' race
Runs to decay.



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Those, that do put their confidence." Why do the Gentiles tumults make,

And nations all conspire in vaine, 2 And earthly princes counsell take

Against their God; against the raigne

of his deare Christ'? let us, they saine, 3 Breake all their bonds : and from us shake

Their thraldome, yoke, and servile chaine. 4 Whiles thus, alas! they fondly spake,

He, that aloft rides on the skies,

Laughs all their lewd device to scorne; 5 And, when his wrathfull rage shall rise,

With plagues shall make them all forlorne ;

And, in his fury, thus replies :
6 But I, my King with sacred horne

Anointing, shall, in princely guise,
His head with royall crowne adorne.
Upon my Sion's holy mount
His empire's glorious seat shall be.
And I, thus rais’d, shall farre recount

The tenour of his true decree.
7 My Sonne thou art, said God; I thee

Begat this day, by due account:
Thy scepter, doe but aske of me,

All earthly kingdomes shall surmount. 8 All nations to thy rightful sway,

I will subject from furthest end 9 Of all the world; and thou shalt bray

Those stubborne foes, that will not bend,

With iron mace, like potters' clay, 10 In peeces small: ye kings attend;

And yee, whom others wont obey,
Learne wisdome, and at last amend.

11 See ye serve God, with greater dread

Than others you: and, in your feare,

Rejoyce the while; and, lowly spread, 12 Doe homage to his Sonne so deare : Lest he be wroth, and doe you

dead 13 Amids your way, If kindled

His wrath shall be: O blessed those,
That doe on him their trust repose.


AS THE cxilith PSALM,

Ye children, which &c." Ah, Lord ! how

many be my foes ! How many are against me rose, 2 That to my grieved soule have sed,

Tush, God shall him no succour yeeld; 3 Whiles thou, Lord, art my praise, my shield,

And dost advance my carefull head! 4 Loud with my voice to God I cry'd :

His grace unto my sute reply'd,

From out his holy hill. 5 I laid me downe, slept, rose againe :

For thou, O Lord, dost me sustaine,

And sav'st my soule from feared ill. 6 Not if ten thousand armed foes

My naked side should round enclose,
Would I be thereof ought a-dread.

Up, Lord, and shield me from disgrace: 7 For thou hast broke my foe-men's face,

And all the wicked's teeth hast shed, 8 From thee, O God, is safe defence ;

Do thou thy free beneficence
Upon thy people largely spread.

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2 Favour me still, and daigne to heare

Mine humble sute. O wretched wights, 3 How long will ye mine honour deare

Turne into shame through your despights ?

Still will ye love what thing is vaine,
4 And seeke false hopes? know then at last,

That God hath chose, and will maintaine
His favourite, whom ye disgrac't.

God will regard my instant mone.
5 Oh! tremble then, and cease offending;

And, on your silent bed alone,

Talke with your hearts, your wayes amending 6 Offer the truest sacrifice

Of broken hearts; on God besetting 7 Your onely trust. The most devise

The wayes of worldly treasure getting :
But thou, O Lord, lift up to me

The light of that sweet looke of thine; 8 So shall my soule more gladsome be,

Than theirs with all their corne and wine. 9 So I in peace shall lay me downe,

And on my bed take quiet sleepe;
Whiles thou, O Lord, shalt me alone
From dangers all securely keepe.

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4 Thou dost not, Lord,

Delight in wickednesse ; Nor to bad men

Wilt thy protection lend. 5 The boasters proud

Cannot before thee stay: Thou hat'st all those,

That are to sin devoted: 6 The lying lips,

And who with blood are spotted, Thou doest abhorre,

And wilt for ever slay : 7 But I unto

Thy house shall take the way: And, through thy grace

Abundant, shall adore, With humble feare,

Within thy holy place. 8 Oh! leade me, Lord,

Within thy righteous trace: Even for their sakes

That malice me so sore, Make smooth thy paths

My dimmer eyes before. 9 Within their mouth

No truth is ever found: Pure mischiefe is

Their heart: a gaping tombe 10 Is their wide throat ;

And yet their tongues still sound, 11 With smoothing words.

O Lord, give them their doome, And let them fall

In those their plots profound. In their excesse

Of mischiefe, them destroy, 12 That rebels are;

So those, that to thee flye, Shall all rejoyce

And sing eternally: 13 And whom thou dost

Protect, and who love thee And thy deere name,

In thee shall ever joy ; Since thou with blisse

The righteous dost reward, And with thy grace,

As with a shield him guard.



The mighty God, &c.Let me not, Lord,

Be in thy wrath reproved : Oh! scourge me not

When thy fierce wrath is moved. 2. Pity me, Lord,

That doe with languor pine : Heale me, whose bones

With paine dissolved bin; 3 Whose weary soule

Is vexed above measure. O Lord; how long

Shall í bide thy displeasure ? 4 Turne thee, O Lord,

Rescue my soule distrest; 4 And save me of thy grace.

'Mongst those that rest In silent death,

Can none remember thee; And in the grave

How shouldst thou praised be? 6 Weary with sighs

All night I caus'd my bed To swim : with teares,

My couch I watered. 7 Deepe sorrow hath

Consum'd my dimmed eyne, Sunk in with griefe

At these lewd foes of mine: 8 But now hence, hence,

Vaine plotters of mine ill : The Lord hath heard

My lamentations shrill : 9 God heard my suit,

And still attends the same : 10 Blush now, my foes,

And flye with sudden shame.

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