[The Courte of Vertu contaynynge many holy songes, Sonettes, psalmes and ballettes] [by John Hall] |
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An other Ditie to the same purpose and vse. |
 | [The Courte of Vertu |  |
160
An other Ditie to the same purpose and vse.
If
any men from wo,
And payne restorde to ease,
When griefe is gone hym fro,
With sycknesse and dysease,
Haue cause with prayse,
To laude thy name,
And shewe the same,
Wyth thankes always.
And payne restorde to ease,
When griefe is gone hym fro,
With sycknesse and dysease,
Haue cause with prayse,
To laude thy name,
And shewe the same,
Wyth thankes always.
Then I most wretched wyght,
Of all folke most am bounde,
To cause bothe daye and nyght,
Hys prayses to abounde,
Whyche at thys day,
Haue had reliefe
From all my griefe,
Wherin I lay.
Of all folke most am bounde,
To cause bothe daye and nyght,
Hys prayses to abounde,
Whyche at thys day,
Haue had reliefe
From all my griefe,
Wherin I lay.
My pynyng payne and sore
Incomparable was,
As beastes in payne doo rore,
So dyd I wretche alas:
Almoste tyll death,
Would me haue caught,
At me he raught,
To stoppe my breath.
Incomparable was,
As beastes in payne doo rore,
So dyd I wretche alas:
Almoste tyll death,
Would me haue caught,
At me he raught,
To stoppe my breath.
For as a carkas dead,
I lay in wo and care:
I coulde not eate my bread,
So faynt was I and bare:
But nowe beholde.
Howe God my Lorde,
Hath me restorde,
A thousand folde.
I lay in wo and care:
I coulde not eate my bread,
So faynt was I and bare:
[160]
Howe God my Lorde,
Hath me restorde,
A thousand folde.
For where before his rod
I carelesse was and wylde,
Forgettyng my swete God,
With all his mercies myld
I nowe am taught,
To prayse hys powre,
And kepe eche howre
The same in thought.
I carelesse was and wylde,
Forgettyng my swete God,
With all his mercies myld
I nowe am taught,
To prayse hys powre,
And kepe eche howre
The same in thought.
Thus may we dayly see,
He scurgeth vs for loue,
True christians to be,
His mercie dothe vs moue,
And euer styll,
Dothe vs procure,
Ay to indure,
To doo hys wyll.
He scurgeth vs for loue,
True christians to be,
His mercie dothe vs moue,
And euer styll,
Dothe vs procure,
Ay to indure,
To doo hys wyll.
Wherfore I wyll not cease,
On earthe here whyle I dwell,
Hys kyndnes to rehearse,
And of hys mercyes tell:
And howe that he,
When hope was past,
Yet at the last,
Restored me.
On earthe here whyle I dwell,
Hys kyndnes to rehearse,
And of hys mercyes tell:
And howe that he,
When hope was past,
Yet at the last,
Restored me.
All godly men therfore,
That in hym hope and truste,
Prayse hym with all houour,
For he is true and iuste,
And wyll not mysse
To helpe at nede,
And that wyth spede,
All that are hys.
That in hym hope and truste,
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For he is true and iuste,
And wyll not mysse
To helpe at nede,
And that wyth spede,
All that are hys.
Se that both day and nyght,
Whether ye worke or rest,
Ye prayse hym for hys myght.
All creatures moste and least:
Whether ye play,
Lye downe or ryse,
Styll exercise,
His prayse alway.
Whether ye worke or rest,
Ye prayse hym for hys myght.
All creatures moste and least:
Whether ye play,
Lye downe or ryse,
Styll exercise,
His prayse alway.
Whether ye syt or stande,
Whether ye ryde or go,
On sea or on the lande
What so euer ye doo.
Whether therfore,
Ye drynke or eate
After your meate
And eke before
Whether ye ryde or go,
On sea or on the lande
What so euer ye doo.
Whether therfore,
Ye drynke or eate
After your meate
And eke before
All honour to hym gyue,
For he vs wrought and made,
And causeth vs to lyue,
Eche creature in his trade:
And dothe gouerne,
As shypmayster,
Dothe guyde and stere,
His shyppe wyth sterne.
For he vs wrought and made,
And causeth vs to lyue,
Eche creature in his trade:
And dothe gouerne,
As shypmayster,
Dothe guyde and stere,
His shyppe wyth sterne.
[161]
With all our myght and strength,
Let vs hym magnifie,
Whych saueth all at length,
That loue hym faythfully:
Wherfore all thyng,
Wyth hart and voyce,
In hym reioyce,
And thys wyse syng.
Let vs hym magnifie,
Whych saueth all at length,
That loue hym faythfully:
Wherfore all thyng,
Wyth hart and voyce,
In hym reioyce,
And thys wyse syng.
Glory to the Father,
God that of myght hath moste,
And to the sonne so dere,
And to the holy ghoste:
As hath ben yere,
Is and styll shall
Be ouer all,
For euermore.
God that of myght hath moste,
And to the sonne so dere,
And to the holy ghoste:
As hath ben yere,
Is and styll shall
Be ouer all,
For euermore.
Amen.
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