The .lxviij. Psalme.
The
vpriseyng of God putteth his enimies to flyght:
And causeth al them that hate him to flye out of his syght.
For as smoke vanisheth awaye and wax is molt wyth fyre:
So doeth the wycked perish from goddes syght in his great Ire.
As for the iuste, they do reioyce before God And are glad:
They are delyghted inwardly, & can neuer be sad.
Synge vnto God, synge to his name, & make a perfect waye:
To him that rideth in hygh heauen, whose name is Lorde for aye.
Reioyce before him for he is father to fatherlesse:
And in his holy house he doeth, the wydowes cause redresse.
He is the God that maketh peace, and breaketh prisoners band:
And causeth traytours for to dwell, in an vnfruitfull land.
When he went out through wyldernes before his peoples face:
The earth shoke & the heauens molt before him in his place.
God of his goodnes sent downe rayne vpon his heritaunce.
And fylled all the barrant plottes therof wyth aboundaunce.
That his people myght dwel therin, thus dyd the Lorde prepare:
For his pore flocke and gaue his worde to such as for them care.
The kynges that had great armies fled, they fled and toke the foyle:
And such men as sate styll at home, haue diuided the spoyle.
What though no doues fether haue bene more vyle then they in syght?
Yet shall they be as preciouse nowe, as gould that shyneth bryght.
When the almightie had scattred, the kynges that ther dyd raygne:
Thē dyd it glistē lyke the snowe, on zalmon that mountayne.
Goddes hil Sion, is lyke Basan for wōderfull plentie:
An hyll it is that aboundeth wyth all fertilitie.
O ye great hylles, ye myghtie kynges, whye do ye hate this hyll:
Syth it pleaseth the Lorde and he wyll dwel therupon styll?
His horsmen are twentie thousand, and his angelles many
In whom he is as in Sinai, in hys sanctuarie.
He is gone vp on hygh and hath wyth him men that where thrall
He hath receyued gyftes for men, yea for his foes and all.
Thus hath he done that he myght be the Lord praysed for aye:
For as the God of our health he geueth vs gyftes eche daye.
Our God (I say) and sauiour he is whilse we haue breath:
And by him alone we escape, the sharppe passage of deathe.
Yet doeth he wound the heades of them that are his enimies:
And the crowne of the heade of them that from synne wyll not ryse.
Thus sayde the Lord, I wyll restore my people home agayne:
From Basan and from the depe sea, they shal not there remayne.
Therfore I saye (O my people) thou shalt not fayle to treade:
In thy foes bloud and thy dogges tonges shallbe therwyth made redde.
The maner of the goynge of my God, my Lord and kynge:
Is well sene in his holy place, where he is abydyng.
The syngyng mē do go before, then folowe the mynstrelles:
And laste of all the fayer maydens playinge vpon tymbrelles.
O ye that descend of the flocke of mightie Israell:
Prayse ye the Lorde in such order as ye haue hearde me tell.
Fyrst lyttle Beniamin ruleth, and Iuda is your strength:
Then Sebulon and Neptali, are captaynes good at length.
It is god that hath geuē you this strength you maye be sure:
O God confirme the same in vs that it may styll endure.
For the kynges do offer to the mo gyftes in sacrifice:
Then be made at Ierusalem after the temples guise.
Rebuke the myghtie men of armes, that in armes can do well:
And the stronge men of euerie land, that for lucre rebell.
Disparse them that delyght in warres & let messengers come:
Out of Egypt and Ethiope, and sue to thy kyngdome.
Synge to the Lord (O ye kyngdomes of the earth) and reioyse:
To him that rideth on the heauens, & stretcheth out his voyce.
Ascribe to hym all myght and power, for his glorie doeth raygne:
Ouer Israell & his powre, aboue the cloudes certayne.
O God thou arte to be feared, in thy sanctuarie:
For thou geuest powre to thy flocke, and arte of prayse worthy.
