The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney In Three Volumes |
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Psalm V. Verba mea auribus.
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| XXX. |
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| XXXVII. |
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 | The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney |  |
Psalm V. Verba mea auribus.
Ponder the wordes O Lord that I doe say,
Consider what I meditate in me:
O harken to my voice which calls on thee,
My king, my God, for I to thee will pray.
Soe shall my voice clime to thine eares betime:
For unto thee I will my praier send
With earliest entry of the morning prime,
And will my waiting eies to thee-ward bend.
Consider what I meditate in me:
O harken to my voice which calls on thee,
My king, my God, for I to thee will pray.
Soe shall my voice clime to thine eares betime:
For unto thee I will my praier send
With earliest entry of the morning prime,
And will my waiting eies to thee-ward bend.
191
For thou art that same God, farre from delight
In that which of fowle wickednes doth smell:
No, nor with thee the naughty ones shall dwell,
Nor glorious fooles stand in thy awfull sight.
Thou hatest all whose workes in ill are plac'd,
And shalt roote out the tongues to lyeng bent:
For thou, the Lord, in endles hatred hast
The murdrous man and soe the fraudulent.
In that which of fowle wickednes doth smell:
No, nor with thee the naughty ones shall dwell,
Nor glorious fooles stand in thy awfull sight.
Thou hatest all whose workes in ill are plac'd,
And shalt roote out the tongues to lyeng bent:
For thou, the Lord, in endles hatred hast
The murdrous man and soe the fraudulent.
But I my self will to thy howse addresse
With pasport of thy graces manifold:
And in thy feare, knees of my hart will fold,
Towardes the temple of thy hollinesse.
Thou Lord, thou Lord, the saver of thine owne!
Guide me, ô in thy justice be my guide:
And make thy waies to me more plainly known,
For all I need, that with such foes do bide.
With pasport of thy graces manifold:
And in thy feare, knees of my hart will fold,
Towardes the temple of thy hollinesse.
Thou Lord, thou Lord, the saver of thine owne!
Guide me, ô in thy justice be my guide:
And make thy waies to me more plainly known,
For all I need, that with such foes do bide.
For in their mouth not one cleare word is spent,
Mischief their soules for inmost lyning have:
Their throate it is an open swallowing grave,
Whereto their tong, is flattring instrument.
Give them their due unto their guiltinesse
Let their vile thoughts the thinckers ruine be:
With heaped weights, of their own sinns oppresse
These most ungratefull rebells unto thee.
Mischief their soules for inmost lyning have:
Their throate it is an open swallowing grave,
Whereto their tong, is flattring instrument.
Give them their due unto their guiltinesse
Let their vile thoughts the thinckers ruine be:
With heaped weights, of their own sinns oppresse
These most ungratefull rebells unto thee.
So shal all they that trust on thee doe bend,
And love the sweete sound of thy name, rejoyce:
They ever shall send thee their praising voice;
Since ever thou to them wilt succour send.
Thy work it is to blesse, thou blessedst them
The just in thee, on thee and justice build:
Thy work it is such men safe in to hemm
With kindest care, as with a certain shield.
And love the sweete sound of thy name, rejoyce:
They ever shall send thee their praising voice;
Since ever thou to them wilt succour send.
Thy work it is to blesse, thou blessedst them
The just in thee, on thee and justice build:
Thy work it is such men safe in to hemm
With kindest care, as with a certain shield.
| The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney | |