 | The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney |  |
218
Psalm XXVI. Judica me, Domine.
Lord judge me and my case
For I have made my race
Within the boundes of innocence to bide:
And setting thee for scope
Of all my trustfull hope;
I held for sure; that I should never slide.
For I have made my race
Within the boundes of innocence to bide:
And setting thee for scope
Of all my trustfull hope;
I held for sure; that I should never slide.
Prove me ô Lord most high,
Me with thy touch-stone try:
Yea sound my reynes, and inmost of my hart.
For so thy loving hand
Before my eyes did stand,
That from thy truth will not depart.
Me with thy touch-stone try:
Yea sound my reynes, and inmost of my hart.
For so thy loving hand
Before my eyes did stand,
That from thy truth will not depart.
I did not them frequent,
Who be to vainesse bent,
Nor kept with base dissemblers company.
Nay I did ev'n detest
Of wicked wights the neast,
And from the haunts of such bad folks did fly.
Who be to vainesse bent,
Nor kept with base dissemblers company.
Nay I did ev'n detest
Of wicked wights the neast,
And from the haunts of such bad folks did fly.
In th'innocence of me
My handes shall washed be;
And with those handes, about thy Alter waite.
That I may still expresse
With voice of thanckfullnes
The works perform'd by thee, most wondrous greate.
My handes shall washed be;
And with those handes, about thy Alter waite.
That I may still expresse
With voice of thanckfullnes
The works perform'd by thee, most wondrous greate.
Lord, I have loved well
The howse where thou dost dwell,
Ev'n where thou mak'st thy honnors biding place.
Sweete Lord, write not my soule,
Within the sinners rowle:
Nor my lifes cause, match with blood-seekers case.
The howse where thou dost dwell,
Ev'n where thou mak'st thy honnors biding place.
Sweete Lord, write not my soule,
Within the sinners rowle:
Nor my lifes cause, match with blood-seekers case.
With handes of wicked shifts
With right hands stain'd with gifts
But while I walk in my unspotted waies
Redeeme and show mee grace
So I in publique place
Sett on plaine ground will thee Jehovah praise.
With right hands stain'd with gifts
But while I walk in my unspotted waies
Redeeme and show mee grace
So I in publique place
Sett on plaine ground will thee Jehovah praise.
| The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney | |