University of Virginia Library

Psalm 8.

[Eternal Lord; th'illustrous fame]

Eternal Lord; th'illustrous fame
That sounds through world thy glorious name!
Whose greatnes fair transcends the skys;
Whose goodnes earth dooth not despize.
Evĕn tender lips of infants yong
Thy grace inspires with praiseful song:
Whose force thy foes revengeful rage
All danted strangely dooth asswage.
WHEN vp my wondring eys I raize
Towărd higher coorts which preach thy praise;
The heăvens so huge, the stars so bright,
That Prince of day, this Queen of night;
All which doo thee their maker knowe,
Of peerles hand the matchles showe:
Lord, what is man, poor clot of mold,
That him in mynd thou still shouldst hold;
Or son of man, defiled worm,
Thy gracious thoughts towărd him to turn!
A LITTLE thou wilt man abbase,
Beneath thy blisful Angels place:
Then ay shal man remain renoumd,
With prime of glori princely cround.
To him as King thy creatures bow,
And dueti prest shal ioyful vow:
What e're against his scepter swell,
His powrful foot thou doun makĕst quell.
THE cattle myld his service bear:
Yea beasts most wyld his frouns doo fear:
What flying wing the air divides,
What swimming fin through water glides,
What creeping thing in sea or land,
Hast all subiected to his hand.
O Lord, our Lord; what glorious fame
Resounds through world thy gracious name!