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LXXXIIII. | The .lxxxiiij. Psalme. |
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CL. |
The .lxxxiiij. Psalme.
O Lorde
of hostes, how bewtifull and howe goodly in syght:
Are the tabernacles & tentes, that in thy champe are pight?
Are the tabernacles & tentes, that in thy champe are pight?
To dwel in the Lordes courtes, my soule doeth longe excedynglye:
And to be wyth the lyueynge God, myne herte and fleshe do crye.
And to be wyth the lyueynge God, myne herte and fleshe do crye.
For the verie sparowe hath founde a place wherin to dwell:
And the swallowe a neste where she maye kepe hir yonge ones well.
And the swallowe a neste where she maye kepe hir yonge ones well.
O Lord of myght, that arte my kyng and eke my God for aye:
Thyne altares are the place wheron these byrdes do fynde theyr staye.
Thyne altares are the place wheron these byrdes do fynde theyr staye.
Happie and blessed are all they that in thyne house do dwell:
For they shall styll extoll thy name and thy great prayses tell.
For they shall styll extoll thy name and thy great prayses tell.
Happie are the men that do put theyr confidence in the:
And in whose hertes thyne holy wayes are euident to se.
And in whose hertes thyne holy wayes are euident to se.
When they passe through the vale of teares, wyth welles they shall it store:
And the rayne shall fyll the fyshe pondes tyll they wyll hold no more.
And the rayne shall fyll the fyshe pondes tyll they wyll hold no more.
From heape to heape they shall procede, in greate possession:
Eche of them shal playnly appeare before god in Sion.
Eche of them shal playnly appeare before god in Sion.
Lord God of hostes, heare my prayer, O Iacobs God take hede:
O God our shild behold the face of Christ thyne anoynted.
O God our shild behold the face of Christ thyne anoynted.
For in thy courtes one daye passeth, a thousand dayes elsewhere:
At thy dore, then in wycked tentes, I would dwelle much rather.
At thy dore, then in wycked tentes, I would dwelle much rather.
For the Lord God is a cleare sunne, & eke a tergat sure:
And geueth grace, honour, and all good thynges vnto the pure.
O Lorde of hostes, that man is bleste and must nedes happye be:
That putteth hys only trust & his cōfidence in the.
That putteth hys only trust & his cōfidence in the.