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| 66. | Psalm 66 Jubilate Deo |
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 | The psalms |  |
127
Psalm 66 Jubilate Deo
All lands, the lymms of earthy round,
With triumph tunes Gods honor sound:
Sing of his name the praisefull glory,
And glorious make his praises story.
Tell God: O God, what frightfull wonder
Thy workes doe wittnes, whose great might
Thy enimies so bringeth under,
Though frown in heart, they fawn in sight.
With triumph tunes Gods honor sound:
Sing of his name the praisefull glory,
And glorious make his praises story.
Tell God: O God, what frightfull wonder
Thy workes doe wittnes, whose great might
Thy enimies so bringeth under,
Though frown in heart, they fawn in sight.
All earth, and ev'ry land therefore
Sing to this God, this God adore:
All earth, I say, and all earth dwellers,
Be of his worth the singing tellers.
O come, behold, O note beholding,
What dreadfull wonders from him flow:
More height, more weight, more force enfolding,
Then Adams earthy brood can show.
Sing to this God, this God adore:
All earth, I say, and all earth dwellers,
Be of his worth the singing tellers.
O come, behold, O note beholding,
What dreadfull wonders from him flow:
More height, more weight, more force enfolding,
Then Adams earthy brood can show.
The sea up-dried by his hand,
Became a field of dusty sand:
Through Jordans streames we dry-shod waded,
The joy whereof not yet is faded.
His throne of strength unmoved standeth:
His eie on ev'ry coast is cast:
The rebell who against him bandeth
Of ruins cup shall quickly tast.
Became a field of dusty sand:
Through Jordans streames we dry-shod waded,
The joy whereof not yet is faded.
His throne of strength unmoved standeth:
His eie on ev'ry coast is cast:
The rebell who against him bandeth
Of ruins cup shall quickly tast.
You folk his flock, come then employ
In lawding him your songes of joy
On God, our God, your voices spending,
Still praying, praising, never ending.
For he our life hath us re-given,
Nor would he let our goings slide:
Though for our triall neerly driven,
Yea silver like in furnace tryde.
In lawding him your songes of joy
On God, our God, your voices spending,
Still praying, praising, never ending.
For he our life hath us re-given,
Nor would he let our goings slide:
Though for our triall neerly driven,
Yea silver like in furnace tryde.
128
For God thou didst our feete innett,
And pinching sadles, on us sett
Nay (which is worse to be abidden),
Ev'n on our heads a man hath ridden.
Hee rode us through where fiers flashed;
Where swelling streames did rudely roare:
Yet scorched thus, yet we thus washed,
Were sett by thee on plenties shoare.
And pinching sadles, on us sett
Nay (which is worse to be abidden),
Ev'n on our heads a man hath ridden.
Hee rode us through where fiers flashed;
Where swelling streames did rudely roare:
Yet scorched thus, yet we thus washed,
Were sett by thee on plenties shoare.
I therefore to thy house will go,
To pay and offer what I owe:
To pay my vowes, my lippes then vowed
When under grief my body bowed;
To offer whole burnt sacrifices,
The fatt of Ramms with sweete perfume:
Nay goates, nay bulls, of greater sizes,
And greater prices to consume.
To pay and offer what I owe:
To pay my vowes, my lippes then vowed
When under grief my body bowed;
To offer whole burnt sacrifices,
The fatt of Ramms with sweete perfume:
Nay goates, nay bulls, of greater sizes,
And greater prices to consume.
O come, all yee that God doe feare,
O come, and lend attentive eare;
While by my tongue shalbe expressed,
How blessed he my soule hath blessed.
I crid to him, my cry procured
My free dischardge from all my bandes:
His eare had not my voice endured,
But that my heart unstained standes.
O come, and lend attentive eare;
While by my tongue shalbe expressed,
How blessed he my soule hath blessed.
I crid to him, my cry procured
My free dischardge from all my bandes:
His eare had not my voice endured,
But that my heart unstained standes.
Now as my heart was innocent,
God heard the harty sighes I spent:
What I to praiers recommended
Was gratiously by him attended.
Praise, praise him then, for what is left me,
But praise to him: who what I praid
Rejected not, nor hath bereft me
My hopefull helpe, his mercies aid.
God heard the harty sighes I spent:
What I to praiers recommended
Was gratiously by him attended.
Praise, praise him then, for what is left me,
But praise to him: who what I praid
Rejected not, nor hath bereft me
My hopefull helpe, his mercies aid.
| The psalms | |