Hymn XXIIII. For Rogation Weeke.
[_]
This is called Rogation of Rogando, and from the
publique Supplications then made. For about that
time Princes go forth to Warre; The hope of
Plentie is in the blossome; The Aire is most
subject to infection; Voyages by Land and Sea are
undertaken; and many other things require that
publique Supplications should be made. It is our
custome also in many places, to visite our Parish
Bounders, that contentious suits may be thereby
prevented. And if in such neighbourly Preambulations,
this, or the like Meditations were publiquely
sung as we walke through the Fields, it would not be an unprofitable practise.
Sing this as the Lamentation or X. Com.
[1]
Lord! it hath pleased thee to say,
That when we prayed in thy Name,
(And prayed as we ought to pray)
We should from Thee obtain the same.
We therefore, humbly pray Thee, now,
That, to the suits which we do make
Thou pleas'd would'st be, thine eare to bow,
And heare us, for thy Mercy sake.
2
Let not the Seasons of this Yeer,
As they their Courses do observe,
Engender those Contagions, here,
Which our Offences do deserve.
Let not the Summer-wormes impaire
The Bloomings, of Herbe, Flowre, or Tree;
Nor blastings, or distemper'd Aire,
Destroy those Fruits that hopefull be.
3
Domestick Jars, expell thou far;
And be so pleas'd our Coasts to guard,
That, horrid Sounds of In-brought-war,
Within our Confines, be not heard.
Continue, likewise here, thy Word;
And, make us thankfull Lord, we pray,
That Famine, Pestilence, and Sword,
Have been, so long, with-held away.
4
As we are heedfull to observe,
The certaine Limits, of our Grounds;
And (Outward-Quiet to preserve)
Walk, yeerly, round our Parish-Bounds.
So, let us take a comely Care,
Our Souls Inheritance, to know;
That, no Encroachments may be, there,
Obtained by our Subtle, Foe.
5
What pleasant Groves! what goodly Fields!
What fruitfull Hils, and Dales, have we!
How sweet an Aire, our Climate yields!
How stor'd, with Flocks, and Herds, are we!
How Milke, and Honey overflow!
How cleare and wholsome, are our Springs!
From Ravenous-Beasts, how safe, we go!
How free from Poysnous-Creeping-Things!
6
For these; and for our Grasse, our Corn;
And, all that Springs from Blade, or Bough:
For all those Blessings, which adorn
Wood, Streame, or Field, this Iland through.
For all of these thy Praise, we sing:
And, humbly, we petition, too,
That, we to Thee, Fruits forth may bring,
As unto us, thy Creatures do.
7
So; in the sweet refreshing shade,
Of thy Protection, sitting down,
The gracious Favours, which we had,
Relate we will, to thy renown.
Our Children too, when we are gone,
Shall for these Mercies, honour Thee;
And, famous make what thou hast done,
To those, which after Them, shall be.
