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The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie

Edited by James Cranstoun

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PSALME XIX.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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PSALME XIX.

The firmament,
And heauens out-stent,
So excellent,
Thy handywork and glorious praise proclaim:
Each day to day
Succeeding ay
In their array,
And night to night, by course, doe preache the same.

253

No sound of breath nor speach
Of men haue they,
Ȝet eueriewhere they preache
Thy praise, I say.
Their lyne goeth out
The earth about:
Their voice is heard throughout the world so wide.
There he a throne
Set for the sunne,
And paylion plight, his mansion to abide;
Who, like a groome
Of great renoume,
Right braue doth come
From chamber straight, with comlie countenance;
Or, like a knight
In pleasant plight,
Doth haste with might
To runne the race, his honor to aduance.
His rysing and his race,
It doth appeare
Euen from the out-most space
Of heauens spheare.
Then hes he taine
His course againe,
Through aȝurde sky, by reuolution right.
Nothing can be
Hid from the eye
And burning beames of that great lampe of light.
God's word is cleare;
His law sinceere,
And most enteere,

254

The sinfull soule to him for to conuert:
His precepts pure,
Both firme and sure,
And can allure,
And make right wise the sober simple heart.
Thy ways and statutes all
Are righteousnesse,
Which glad the soules in thrall,
With joyfulnesse:
They giue cleare light
To our blinde sight.
Thy feare is pure, and euer permanent:
Thou cannot rew:
Thy judgments trew
And righteous are, O Lord Omnipotent.
Much gold of price,
Refyned twyce,
Ȝea, more than thryce,
Is not in worth with them for to be valude:
The honie white,
Pure and perfite,
Mouing delite,
Is not so sweete, nor so much to be craued.
They make thy seruants wise
And circumspect;
And, what to enterprise,
They him direct.
In keeping them,
Great is the gaine,
And rich rewarde, for such lade vp for euer.
Bot who can count
Sinnes that surmount?
From secreet sins, good Lord, my soule deliuer.

255

O Lord, vouchsaue,
I humblie craue,
Me for to saue,
And cleanse my hart from proud presumptuous sin:
Then shall I bee
From sinnes set free,
That troubles mee.
Preserue me, Lord, that I walke not therein;
And let them not preuaile,
Me to possesse:
Then I will, without faile,
Loue righteousnesse.
Accept my plaint,
Which I present
Before thy sight, with humble hart and voice.
My strength and stay
Thou art for ay,
And Sauiour sweete, in whom I do rejoyce.