 | Sacred Hymns, Consisting of Fifti Select Psalms of David and others, Paraphrastically turned into English Verse. And by Robert Tailovr, set to be sung in Five parts, as also to the Viole, and Lute or Orph-arion. Published for the vse of such as delight in the exercise of Mvsic in hir original honour |  |
44
Psalm 44.
[Our pleazed ears, renoumed Lord, haue heard]
Our pleazed ears, renoumed Lord, haue heard
The ioious tongs of reverend elders tell;
What acts of thyn their state of old had reard;
Did cursed seed from chozen soil expell.
Thy powrful hand, them rach'd vp, ours did plant:
Made them nor wo, nor blessing ours to want.
NOT mortal arm, extermind Giants race;
Nor swoord terrene, dezired land possesd.
Thy arm divine, thy right hand, lightsom face,
In favour deer, from heavĕn their armies blesd.
Thou self same God, my King doost still remain:
Command great King thy Iacobs strength again.
SOLE thou command; revived strength our foes
With horn should push, with feet shal trample doun.
Not swoord, not bowe; hopes failing: thou disclose
That aid, which foes in hates owne shame did droun.
Thy loveli name much ioy did then confess:
Much ioy same name in praise shal ay express.
The ioious tongs of reverend elders tell;
What acts of thyn their state of old had reard;
Did cursed seed from chozen soil expell.
Thy powrful hand, them rach'd vp, ours did plant:
Made them nor wo, nor blessing ours to want.
NOT mortal arm, extermind Giants race;
Nor swoord terrene, dezired land possesd.
Thy arm divine, thy right hand, lightsom face,
In favour deer, from heavĕn their armies blesd.
Thou self same God, my King doost still remain:
Command great King thy Iacobs strength again.
SOLE thou command; revived strength our foes
With horn should push, with feet shal trample doun.
Not swoord, not bowe; hopes failing: thou disclose
That aid, which foes in hates owne shame did droun.
Thy loveli name much ioy did then confess:
Much ioy same name in praise shal ay express.
THUS once we livĕd: but now in life we dy;
Cast off, debasĕd; no more our armies head:
Harts grief to speak; vile foes us force to fly;
And preying troops in dust our glories tread.
Thus scattĕred lo midst Hethen lands we live:
Where food to foes flock loved once doost give.
AH once belovĕd! now sold, and not for gain.
Thy wealth had yet our thralled lifes encreasd,
Less grief had been: but scorn we now remain
To neighbours round; whose hate our shames appeasd.
Derided heard hast made a proverb growe;
Which scoffing Hethĕn with wagging heads outcrowe.
WEAK comforts fade: strong woes stil fresh renue.
My grief within, without my shame torments.
Confusions, ah, confusions round accrue:
And foul disgrace stil lothed face prezents.
Reproaching voice, blasphemous mouth, and ire
Of hostile eys, dire anguish still enfire.
Cast off, debasĕd; no more our armies head:
Harts grief to speak; vile foes us force to fly;
And preying troops in dust our glories tread.
Thus scattĕred lo midst Hethen lands we live:
Where food to foes flock loved once doost give.
AH once belovĕd! now sold, and not for gain.
Thy wealth had yet our thralled lifes encreasd,
Less grief had been: but scorn we now remain
To neighbours round; whose hate our shames appeasd.
Derided heard hast made a proverb growe;
Which scoffing Hethĕn with wagging heads outcrowe.
38
My grief within, without my shame torments.
Confusions, ah, confusions round accrue:
And foul disgrace stil lothed face prezents.
Reproaching voice, blasphemous mouth, and ire
Of hostile eys, dire anguish still enfire.
ALL this on us is com: yet have not wee
Forgot thee Lord, or false thy leaug prophanĕd.
Nor harts repining writhe their loves from thee:
Nor feet decline from sacred ways ashamĕd.
Yea though us ruĭnd in Dragons wasts doost place:
And shade of death make weari lifes embrace.
IF blessed name, unblest we have forgot;
Disloial hands if stretcht, in strangers guise,
To Gods, no Gods: and should our Lord it not
Search out, whose ey harts secretst thoughts espys?
Ah love of thee lo tyrants hate procures:
For thee we dy; as knife fat sheep endures.
AH daily slain! At length yet look; arize;
Why sleeps our Lord? awake; and not bereve
Thyn of thy face; nor pressures their despize,
Whose soules to dust, dead brests to ground doo cleve.
Stand up, great Lord; and for thy mercies sake,
Oh servants thyn to thy redemption take.
Forgot thee Lord, or false thy leaug prophanĕd.
Nor harts repining writhe their loves from thee:
Nor feet decline from sacred ways ashamĕd.
Yea though us ruĭnd in Dragons wasts doost place:
And shade of death make weari lifes embrace.
IF blessed name, unblest we have forgot;
Disloial hands if stretcht, in strangers guise,
To Gods, no Gods: and should our Lord it not
Search out, whose ey harts secretst thoughts espys?
Ah love of thee lo tyrants hate procures:
For thee we dy; as knife fat sheep endures.
AH daily slain! At length yet look; arize;
Why sleeps our Lord? awake; and not bereve
Thyn of thy face; nor pressures their despize,
Whose soules to dust, dead brests to ground doo cleve.
Stand up, great Lord; and for thy mercies sake,
Oh servants thyn to thy redemption take.
| Sacred Hymns, Consisting of Fifti Select Psalms of David and others, Paraphrastically turned into English Verse. And by Robert Tailovr, set to be sung in Five parts, as also to the Viole, and Lute or Orph-arion. Published for the vse of such as delight in the exercise of Mvsic in hir original honour | |