 | A paraphrase vpon the divine poems |  |
Psalme XXXIX.
[I said, I will my wayes observe]
[Part 1.]
I said, I will my wayes observe,
Lest I should swerve:
VVith Bit and Reines my Tongue keepe in,
Too prone to Sinne.
Nor to their calumnie replie,
VVho glorie in Impietie.
Lest I should swerve:
VVith Bit and Reines my Tongue keepe in,
Too prone to Sinne.
Nor to their calumnie replie,
VVho glorie in Impietie.
I, like a Statue, silent stood,
Dumbe even to good:
My Sorrowes boyling in my brest
Exil'd my rest:
But when my Heart incenst with wrong
Grew hot, I gave my Griefe a tongue.
Dumbe even to good:
My Sorrowes boyling in my brest
Exil'd my rest:
But when my Heart incenst with wrong
Grew hot, I gave my Griefe a tongue.
Of those few dayes I have to spend,
And my last End,
Informe me, Lord; that I may so
My Frailty know.
My time is made short, as a Span;
As nothing is the Age of man.
And my last End,
Informe me, Lord; that I may so
My Frailty know.
48
As nothing is the Age of man.
Man nothing is but Vanitie,
Though thron'd on high;
Walks like a Shadow, and in vaine
Turmoiles with paine:
He heaps up wealth with wretched care,
Yet knowes not who shall prove his Heire.
Though thron'd on high;
Walks like a Shadow, and in vaine
Turmoiles with paine:
He heaps up wealth with wretched care,
Yet knowes not who shall prove his Heire.
Part. 2.
Lord! what expect I? thou the Scope
Of all my Hope:
Him from his loath'd Transgressions free,
Who trusts in Thee:
Nor O subject me to the Rule,
And proud derision of a Foole!
Of all my Hope:
Him from his loath'd Transgressions free,
Who trusts in Thee:
Nor O subject me to the Rule,
And proud derision of a Foole!
With silence, since thy Will was such,
I suffered much:
O now forbeare! lest instant Death
Force my faint breath.
VVhen thou dost with thy Rod chastise
Offending man, his courage dies:
I suffered much:
O now forbeare! lest instant Death
Force my faint breath.
VVhen thou dost with thy Rod chastise
Offending man, his courage dies:
His Beauty wasted, like a cloth
Gnawne by the Moth:
Himselfe a short-lif'd vanitie,
And borne to die.
Lord, to my Prayers incline thine Eare;
And thy afflicted Servant heare.
Gnawne by the Moth:
Himselfe a short-lif'd vanitie,
And borne to die.
Lord, to my Prayers incline thine Eare;
And thy afflicted Servant heare.
Nor these salt rivers of mine Eyes,
My God, despise:
A Stranger, as my Fathers were,
I sojourne here.
O let me gather strength, before
I passe away, and be no more.
My God, despise:
A Stranger, as my Fathers were,
I sojourne here.
O let me gather strength, before
I passe away, and be no more.
| A paraphrase vpon the divine poems | |