Psalterium Carolinum The devotions of His Sacred Majestie in his solitudes and sufferings, Rendred in Verse [by Thomas Stanley]. Set to Musick for 3 Voices and an Organ or Theorbo, By John Wilson |
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| IIII. |
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| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
Ode XII. Vpon the Rebellion and troubles in Ireland.
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| XXI. |
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| XXIII. |
| XXIIII. |
| XXV. |
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| XXVII. |
 | Psalterium Carolinum |  |
Ode XII. Vpon the Rebellion and troubles in Ireland.
Thy mercies Lord (hence in displeasure fled)
On me and my torn Kingdoms I implore:
Whose loss we both too justy merited,
But never can deserve thou shouldst restore.
On me and my torn Kingdoms I implore:
Whose loss we both too justy merited,
But never can deserve thou shouldst restore.
Thou seest the cruelty that Christians use,
In the false colours of Religion dy'd;
As if the names of Christians they should lose,
Unless they one another crucify'd.
In the false colours of Religion dy'd;
As if the names of Christians they should lose,
Unless they one another crucify'd.
Since we thy Truth and Charity despis'd,
Errour, and Hatred now their room possess.
My God, O pardon those thou hast chastiz'd;
Our wounds with penitentiall Balm redress
Errour, and Hatred now their room possess.
My God, O pardon those thou hast chastiz'd;
Our wounds with penitentiall Balm redress
Make not our sufferings less in thy esteem;
And to our Conscience let our sins appear,
As they in th'mirrour of thy judgements seem;
Which to small crimes are never so severe.
And to our Conscience let our sins appear,
As they in th'mirrour of thy judgements seem;
Which to small crimes are never so severe.
Remove their numerous weight, and be appeas'd,
Yet then our sinns may they afflict us less:
More willing to repent than to be eas'd,
With peace our Souls, & next our Kingdoms bless.
Yet then our sinns may they afflict us less:
More willing to repent than to be eas'd,
With peace our Souls, & next our Kingdoms bless.
By thy great mercy our offences drown'd,
In the calme Sea of our Redeemers blood:
And through the purple current of our own,
Steer us at last to Plenty, Peace, and Good.
In the calme Sea of our Redeemers blood:
And through the purple current of our own,
Steer us at last to Plenty, Peace, and Good.
To me a share of all the ills that press
My Subjects, doth my wide relation bring:
Give me a pious sense of their distress,
Such as befits their Father and their King.
My Subjects, doth my wide relation bring:
Give me a pious sense of their distress,
Such as befits their Father and their King.
Let the reproachfull breath their Malice spreads,
Kindle in me compassionate desires:
My Charity heap Coles upon their heads,
Whose zealous cruelty my Kingdom fires.
Kindle in me compassionate desires:
My Charity heap Coles upon their heads,
Whose zealous cruelty my Kingdom fires.
O rescue those whom yet thou hast preserv'd,
Reduceing all to thy Truths saving waies;
Who by mistake or ignorance have swerv'd,
But punish them who these combustions raise.
Reduceing all to thy Truths saving waies;
Who by mistake or ignorance have swerv'd,
But punish them who these combustions raise.
Not with the guilty thou the innocent,
Nor th'erring, wilt with the malitious slay:
To Foes, through avarice on Slaughter bent,
Give not that poor seduced Realm away.
Nor th'erring, wilt with the malitious slay:
Give not that poor seduced Realm away.
In the devouring Fornace of thine ire,
A race, that may thy mercy praise, maintain:
Deal not with me as mens untruths require,
But as my guiltless hands are free from stain.
A race, that may thy mercy praise, maintain:
Deal not with me as mens untruths require,
But as my guiltless hands are free from stain.
If I have sought or lov'd my Kingdomes woes,
Nor did my studies faithfully employ,
These bloody wild distractions to compose,
Then let thy hand my fathers house destroy.
Nor did my studies faithfully employ,
These bloody wild distractions to compose,
Then let thy hand my fathers house destroy.
That I have Foes enough thou Lord doest see,
I durst not call thy curse on me and mine,
Were I not guiltless to my self and thee;
Thy mercies are my trust: Thy wrath decline.
I durst not call thy curse on me and mine,
Were I not guiltless to my self and thee;
Thy mercies are my trust: Thy wrath decline.
| Psalterium Carolinum | |