The Poems of James VI. of Scotland :: :: University of Virginia Library

O Lord inspyre my spreit and pen, to praise
Thy Name, whose greatnes far surpassis all:
That syne, I may thy gloir and honour blaise,
Which cleithis the ouer: about the lyke a wall
The light remainis. O thow, whose charge and call,
Made Heauens lyke courtenis for to spred abreid,
Who bowed the waters so, as serue they shall
For cristall syilring ouer thy house to gleid.

Who walks vpon the wings of restles winde,
Who of the clouds his chariot made, euen he,
Who in his presence still the spreits doeth find,
Ay ready to fulfill ilk iust decrie
Of his, whose seruants fyre and flammis they be.
Who set the earth on her fundations sure,
So as her brangling none shall euer see:
Who at thy charge the deip vpon her bure.

So, as the very tops of mountains hie
Be fluidis were onis ouerflowed at thy command,
Ay whill thy thundring voice sone made them flie
Ower hiddeous hills and howes, till noght but sand
Was left behind, syne with thy mightie hand
Thow limits made vnto the roring deip.
So shall she neuer droun againe the land,
But brek her wawes on rockis, her mairch to keip.

Thir are thy workis, who maid the strands to breid,
Syne rinn among the hills from fountains cleir,
Whairto wyld Asses oft dois rinn with speid,
With vther beasts to drinke. Hard be we heir
The chirping birds among the leaues, with beir
To sing, whil all the rocks about rebounde.
A woundrous worke, that thow, ô Father deir,
Maks throtts so small yeild furth so great a sound!

O thow who from thy palace oft letts fall
(For to refresh the hills) thy blessed raine:
Who with thy works mainteins the earth and all:
Who maks to grow the herbs and grass to gaine.

The herbs for foode to man, grass dois remaine
For food to horse, and cattell of all kynde.
Thow causest them not pull at it in vaine,
But be thair foode: such is thy will and mynde.

Who dois reioyse the hart of man with wyne,
And who with oyle his face maks cleir and bright,
And who with foode his stomack strengthnes syne
Who nurishes the very treis aright.
The Cedars evin of Liban tale and wight
He planted hath, where birds do bigg their nest.
He made the Firr treis of a woundrous hight,
Where Storks dois mak thair dwelling place, & rest.

Thow made the barren hills, wylde goats refuge,
Thow maid the rocks, a residence and rest
For Alpin ratts, where they doe liue and ludge.
Thow maid the Moone, her course, as thou thoght best.
Thow maid the Sunne in tyme go to, that lest
He still sould shyne, then night sould neuer come.
But thow in ordour all things hes so drest,
Some beasts for day, for night are also some.

For Lyons young at night beginnis to raire,
And from their denns to craue of God some pray:
Then in the morning, gone is all their caire,
And homeward to their caues rinnis fast, fra day
Beginne to kythe, the Sunne dois so them fray.
Then man gois furth, fra tyme the Sunne dois ryse,
And whill the euening he remanis away
At lesume labour, where his liuing lyes.

How large and mightie are thy workis, ô Lord!
And with what wisedome are they wrought, but faile.
The earths great fulnes, of thy gifts recorde
Dois beare: Heir of the Seas (which dyuers skaile
Of fish contenis) dois witnes beare: Ilk saile
Of dyuers ships vpon the swolling wawes
Dois testifie, as dois the monstrous whaile,
Who frayis all fishes with his ravening Jawes.

All thir (ô Lord) yea all this woundrous heape
Of liuing things, in season craues their fill
Of foode from thee. Thow giuing, Lord, they reape:
Thy open hand with gude things fills them still
When so thow list: but contrar, when thow will
Withdraw thy face, then are they troubled sair,
Their breath by thee receavd, sone dois them kill:
Syne they returne into their ashes bair.

But notwithstanding, Father deare, in cace
Thow breath on them againe, then they reviue.
In short, thow dois, ô Lord, renewe the face
Of all the earth, and all that in it liue.
Therefore immortall praise to him we giue:
Let him reioyse into his works he maid,
Whose looke and touche, so hills and earth dois greiue,
As earth dois tremble, mountainis reikis, afraid.

To Jehoua I all my lyfe shall sing,
To sound his Name I euer still shall cair:
It shall be sweit my thinking on that King:
In him I shall be glaid for euer mair:
O let the wicked be into no whair
In earth. O let the sinfull be destroyde.
Blesse him my soule who name Iehoua bair:
O blesse him now with notts that are enioyde.

Hallelu-iah.