That to thy hand of vengeance just
Thou maist them take: the poore distressed
Rely on thee with constant trust,
The helpe of orphans and oppressed.
15 Oh! breake the wickeds' arme of might,
And search out all their cursed traines,
And let them vanish out of sight.
16 The Lord, as King, for ever reignes.
From forth his coasts, the heathen sect 17 Are rooted quite thou, Lord, attend'st To poore men's suits; thou do'st direct
Their hearts to them thine eare thou bend'st; 18 That thou mayst rescue from despight,
The wofull fatherlesse and poore:
That so, the vaine and earthen wight
On us may tyrannize no more.
LORD, what am I? A worm, dust, vapour, nothing!
What is my life? A dream, a daily dying!
What is my flesh? My soul's uneasie clothing!
What is my time? A minute ever flying:
My time, my flesh, my life, and I;
What are we, Lord, but vanity?
Where am I, Lord? Downe in a vale of death:
What is my trade? Sin, my dear God offending;
My sport sin too, my stay a puffe of breath:
What end of sin? Hell's horrour, never ending:
My way, my trade, sport, stay and place
Help to make up my dolefull case.
Lord, what art thou? Pure life, power, beauty, bliss:
Where dwell'st thou ? Up above, in perfect light:
What is thy time? Eternity it is:
What state? Attendance of each glorious sp'rit:
Thyself, thy place, thy dayes, thy state
Pass all the thoughts of powers create.
How shall I reach thee, Lord? Oh, soar above,
Ambitious soul: But which way should I flie?
Thou, Lord, art way and end: What wings have I?
Aspiring thoughts, of faith, of hope, of love :
Oh, let these wings, that way alone
Present me to thy blissfull throne.
IMMORTALL Babe, who this dear day
Didst change thy heaven for our clay,
And didst with flesh thy Godhead vail,
Eternal Son of God, all hail !
Shine, happy Star, ye Angels sing
Glory on high to Heaven's King:
Run, shepherds, leave you nightly watch,
See heaven come down to Bethleem's cratch.
Worship, ye Sages of the East,
The King of Gods in meanness drest.
O Blessed Maid, smile and adore
The God, thy womb and armes have bore.
Star, Angels, Shepherds, and wise Sages;
Thou Virgin, glory of all ages;
Restored frame of heaven and earth;
Joy in your dear Redeemer's birth.
LEAVE, O my soul, this baser world below,
Oh, leave this dolefull dungeon of woe;
And soare aloft to that supernal rest,
That maketh all the saints and angels blest.
Lo there the Godhead's radiant throne
Like to ten thousand suns in one!
Lo there thy Saviour dear in glory dight
Ador'd of all the powers of heavens bright:
Lo where that head, that bled with thorny wound,
Shines ever with celestial honour crown'd:
That hand, that held the scornfull reed,
Makes all the fiends infernall dread:
That back and side, that ran with bloody streams,
Daunt angels' eyes with their majestick beames;
Those feet, once fastened to the cursed tree,
Trample on death and hell, in glorious glee.
Those lips, once drench't with gall, do make
With their dread doom the world to quake.
Behold those joyes thou never canst behold;
Those precious gates of pearl, those streets of gold,
Those streams of life, those trees of paradise,
That never can be seen by mortal eyes :
And, when thou seest this state divine,
Think that it is or shall be thine.
See there the happy troups of purest sprights,
That live above in endless true delights;
And see where once thyself shalt ranged be,
And look and long for immortalitie :
And now, beforehand, help to sing
Hallelujahs to Heaven's King!
|