Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PSALM 144, by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE



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PSALM 144, by            
First Line: Praisd be the lord of might
Last Line: Theire god jehova call.


Praisd be the lord of might
my Rocke in all allarmes:
by whome my handes doe fight
my fingers mannage Armes
My grace, my guard, my Forte,
on whome my safetie staies
to whome my hopes resorte
by whome my realme obaies.

Lord what is man that thou,
shouldst tender so his fare?
what hath his child to bowe
thy thoughts unto his care?
whose neerest kynn is nought,
no image of whose daies
more livelie can be thought
then shade that never staies.

Lord bend thy arched skies
with ease to let thee downe:
And make the stormes arrise
from mountaines fuming crowne:
Let followe flames from Skie
to backe their stoutest stand
Let fast thy Arrowes flie
dispersing thickest band.

Thy heav'nlie helpe extend
and lifte mee from this flood:
Let mee thy hand defend,
from hand of forraigne broode
Whose mouth no mouth at all,
but forge of false intent
whereto theire hand doth fall
as aptest instrument.

Then in newe songe to thee,
will I exaulte my voice:
Then shall O God with mee,
my tenn string'd lute rejoice.
Rejoice in him I saie,
whoe Royall right preserves
And saves from swordes decaie
his David that him serves.

O Lord thy helpe extend
and lifte mee from this flood:
let mee thy hand defend,
from hand of forraigne broode.
Whose mouth no mouth at all
but forge of false intent
whereto theire hand doth fall
as aptest instrument.

So then oure sonnes shall growe
as plants of timelie springe:
whome soone to fairest showe,
theire happie growth doth bringe.
As Pillers both doth beare
and garnish kingelie hall
Oure daughters straight, and faire
each house embellish shall.

Oure store shall aye be full
yea shall such fullnes finde:
Though all from thence wee pull
yet more shall rest behinde.
The Millions of encreasse,
shall breake the woonted fowld
yea such the sheepie presse
the streetes shall scantlie howld.

Oure heardes shall brave the best:
abrode no foes allarme:
At home to breake our rest,
no crie the voice of harme.
If blessed terme I maie,
on whome such blessings fall
Then blessed, blessed they
theire God Jehova call.





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