THE MOST NOTABLE SONG OF MOSES,
containing Gods benefites to his people, which he taught
the Children of Israell, a litle before his death: and commanded
them to learne it, and teach it unto their children, as a witnesse betweene God and them.
Deutronom. Chap. xxxii.
Yee Heavens above, unto my speach attend,
And Earth below, give eare unto my will:
My doctrine shall like pleasant drops discend,
My words like heavenly dew shal down distil,
Like as sweet showers refresh the hearbs again
Or as the grasse is nourish'd by the raine.
I will describe Jehovahs name aright,
And to that God give everlasting praise:
Perfect is he, a God of woondrous might,
With judgment he directeth all his waies.
He onely true, and without sinne to trust,
Righteous is he, and he is onely just.
With loathsome sinne now are you all defilde,
Not of his seed, but Bastards, basely borne:
And from his mercie therefore quite exilde,
Mischievous men, through follie all forlorne.
Is it not he which hath you dearly bought:
Proportion'd you, and made you just of nought?
Consider well the times and ages past.
Aske thy forefathers, and they shall thee tell,
That when Jehovah did devide at last,
Th'inheritance that to the Nations fel:
And seperating Adams heires, he gave
The portion, his Israell should have.
His people be the portion of the Lord,
Jacob the lot of his inheritance:
In wildernesse he hath thee not abhorr'd,
But in wild Deserts did thee still advance.
He taught thee still and had a care of thee,
And kept thee as the apple of his eie.
Like as the Eagle tricketh by her neast,
Therein to lay her litle birdes full soft,
And on her backe doth suffer them to rest,
And with her wings doth carie them aloft.
Even so the Lord with care hath nourisht thee,
And thou hast had no other God but he.
And great Jehovah giveth unto thee,
The fertilst soyle the earth did ever yeeld:
That thou all pleasure mightst beholde and see,
And tast the fruit of the most pleasant field:
Honey for thee out of the flint he brought,
And oile out of the craggie rocke he wrought.
With finest butter still he hath thee fed,
With milke of Sheep he hath thee cherished:
With fat of Lambes, and Rammes in Bazan bred,
With flesh of Goates he hath thee nourished.
With finest wheat he hath refresht thee still,
And gave thee wine, thereof to drink thy fill.
But hee that should be thankfull then for this,
Once waxing fat, began to spurne and kicke:
Thou art so crancke, and such thy grosenesse is,
That now to lust thy provender doth pricke.
That he that made thee, thou remembrest not,
And he that sav'd thee thou hast clean forgot.
With Idols they offend his gracious eies,
And by their sinne provoke him unto yre:
To devils they doo offer sacrifice,
Forsake their God, and other goddes desire.
Gods whose beginnings were but strange & new,
Whom yet their fathers never fear'd nor knew.
He which begat thee is cleane out of mind,
The God which form'd thee thou doost not regard:
The Lord to angre was therewith inclinde,
His sonnes and daughters should him so reward.
And there he vow'd his chearfull face to hide,
To see their end, and what would them betide.
For faithlesse they and froward are become,
And with no God move me to jelousie:
To angre they provoke me all and some,
And still offend me with their vanitie:
And with no people I will moove them then,
And angre them with vaine and foolish men.
For why? my wrath is kindled like the fire,
And shall descend to the infernall lake:
The earth shall be consumed in mine ire,
My flames shal make the mighty mountains quake.
With many plagues I wil them stil annoy,
And with mine arrowes I will them destroy.
With hunger, heat and with destruction,
I wil them burne, consume and overthrow:
They shal be meat for beasts to feed uppon,
The ground invenom'd whereupon they goe.
In field, in chamber stil my sword shall slay
Man, maid & child, with him whose head is gray.
And I will scatter them both far and neare,
And hence foorth make their memorie to cease,
Save that the furious enemie I feare,
And that his pride should thereby more increase.
And they should say, and foorth this rumor ring,
That they and not the Lord have done this thing.
They are a nation void of counsell quite,
To understand, there doth not one intend:
But were they wise, in it they woule delite,
And would consider of their latter end.
Can one or two put thousands to the flight,
Except the Lord do help them with his might?
For with our God their Gods may not compare,
Our foes themselves will still the same confesse:
Their Vines of Sodome and Gomorra are,
Their grapes of gaule, clusters of bitternesse.
Their wine is like to Dragons poison sure,
Or gaule of Aspes, that no man may endure.
And have not I laid up in store this thing,
Amongst my treasures doo I not it hide?
The recompence with vengeance wil I bring,
And all in time their foot awry shall slide.
For their destruction (loe) is nowe at hand,
And mischief here even at their heels doth stand.
For why? the Lord doth judge the earth alone,
And to his servants shew himselfe most kinde:
When he shall see their power is past and gone,
And none kept up in hold nor left behind.
When men shal say, let us your goddes behold,
Where be they now, whom ye so much extold?
Which oft did eat the fatted sacrifice,
And dranke the wine of the drinke offering:
Unto your helpe now let us see them rise:
Loe, I am God, and there is no such thing:
I kil, give life, I wound, make whole againe,
Out of my handes no man can ought retaine.
I lift my hands on high to heaven above,
Immortall I, and onely live for ever:
My glittering sword I sharpe for my behoove,
In righteous judgment still I doo persever.
I wil send vengeance on mine enemies,
And many plagues on them which me dispise.
Mine arrowes then of blood shal have their fill,
My sword shal eate the verie flesh of men:
For such my Saintes as they doo slay and kill,
And for the Captives they imprison then.
And when I once begin revenge to take,
From plague & vengeance then I will not slake.
Ye nations all, honour his people then,
He will revenge his servantes guiltlesse blood,
And surely plague the vile and wicked men,
Which stoutlie have against him ever stood.
He will shew mercie stil unto his land,
And on his people, brought foorth by his hand.
