Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PSALM 139, by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE

Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PSALM 139, by                    
First Line: O lord, in me there lieth nought
Last Line: Lord safelie guide from daunger brought.

O lord in mee, there lieth nought
but to thy search revealed lies
for when I sitt
thou markest it
no lesse thou notest when I rise
yea closest Closett of my thought
hath open windowes to thine eyes.

Thou walkest with mee, when I walke,
when to my bedd for rest I goe
I finde thee there
and ev'rie where
not youngest thought in mee doth growe,
No not one word I caste to talke
but yet unuttred thou dost knowe

If foorth I march, thou goest before
If back I turne, thou com'st behinde:
So foorth nor backe,
thy guard I lacke
Naye on mee to thy hand I finde
well I thy wisdome maie adore
but never reach with Earthie mynde.

To shunne thy notice leave thine eye,
O whither might I take my waie?
To Starrie Spheare?
thy throne is there.
To dead mens undelightsome staie,
There is thy walke, and there to lie
unknowne, in vaine I should assaie.

O Sunne, whome light, nor flight can match:
Suppose thy lightfull flightfull winges
Thou lend to mee
and I could flee
as farr as thee, the ev'ning brings
Ev'n ledd to west, he would mee Catch
nor should I lurke with westerne things.

Doe thou thy best O secret night,
In sable vaile to cover mee:
Thy sable vaile
shall vainelie faile
with daie unmaskt my night shalbe,
For night is daie, and darknes light
O father of all lightes to thee.

Each innmoste peece in mee is thyne,
while yet I in my Mother dwelt:
All that mee cladd
from thee I hadd
thou in my frame, haste straungelie dealt,
Needes in my praise, thy workes must shyne
so inly them my thoughts have felt.

Thou, how my backe was beamewise laide
and raftering of my ribbs do'st knowe:
know'st everie pointe
of bone and jointe
how to this whole theis partes did growe
In brave imbrodrie faire array'd
though wrought in shopp both darke, and lowe.

Naie fashionles one forme I tooke,
thy all, and more, behoulding eye
My shapeles shape
could not escape
all theis with times appointed by
Ere one had being, in the booke
of thy foresight enrowld did lie

My God, howe I theis studies prize,
that doe thy hidden workings showe:
whose some is such:
no some so much,
Naie sum'd as sand they summeles growe
I lie to sleepe, from sleepe I rise
yet still in thought with thee I goe.

My God, if thou, but one would'st kill
then straight would leave my further chase:
This Curssed broode
inur'd to blood,
whose graceles taunts at thy disgrace
have aymed ofte, and hating still
would with prowde lies thy truth outface.

Hate not I them, whoe thee doe hate?
thine Lord, I will the censure be:
Detest I not,
the Cankred knott,
whome I against thee banded see?
O Lord, thou know'st in highest rate,
I hate them all as foes to mee.

Search mee my God, and prove my hart
Examyn mee, and trie my thought:
And marke in mee,
if ought there be,
that hath with cawse theire anger wrought.
If not (as not) my lives each parte
Lord safelie guide from daunger brought.

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