O lovelie thing to sing and praises frame: to thee (O Lord) and thy high name with early springe thy bountie to displaie thy truth when night hat[h] vanish't daie yea soe to singe that tenn string'd instrument with lute, and harpe and voice consent. For Lord my mynde thy workes with wonder fill thy dooings are my comfort still what witt can fynde how bravelie thou hast wrought? or deepelie sownd thy shallow'st thought? The foole is blynde And blyndlie doth not knowe howe like the grasse the wicked growe. The wicked growe, like fraile, though flowrie grasse and fallne to wracke, past helpe doe passe, But thow not soe. But high thow still dost staie: and lowe thy haters fall awaie Thy haters loe decaie and perish shall all wicked hands to ruyn fall. Fresh oiled I will livelie lift my horne and match the matchless unicorne: Myne eye shall spie my spies in spightfull case Myne eare shall heare my foes disgrace: Like Cedar high Or like date-bearing tree for greene and growth the just shalbe. Where God doth dwell shalbe his spreading place Gods Court shall his faire boughs imbrace Evan then shall swell his blossoms fatt, and faire when aged rynd the stock shall beare. And I shall tell howe God my Rocke is juste so just with him is nought unjust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAILWAY TRAIN by EMILY DICKINSON DREAM SONG: 1 by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A QUESTION by JOHN MILLINGTON SYNGE TO A REDBREAST, THAT FLEW INTO A HOUSE ... by ELIZABETH BENTLEY A VIGNETTE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES TURNED OUT FOR RENT by M. L. S. BURKE BY ALLAN STREAM by ROBERT BURNS FAMILIAR EPISTLES ON A SERMON, 'OFFICE & OPERATIONS OF HOLY SPIRIT': 2 by JOHN BYROM |