Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PSALM 51, by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE



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PSALM 51, by            
First Line: O lord, whose grace no limits comprehend
Last Line: Till ev'n whole calves on altars be consumed.


O Lord, whose grace no limits comprehend
Sweet Lord, whose mercys stand from measure free
To me that Grace to me that mercy send
And wipe, O Lord, my sin from sinfull mee
O cleanse, o wash my foul iniquity
Clense still my spotts still wash away my stainings
Till stains and spotts leave in me no remaynings.

For I alas, acknowledging do know
My Filthy fault, my faulty filthyness
To my soules ey uncessantly doth shew
Which don to Thee, to Thee I do confess
Just judg, true Witness; that for righteousness
Thy dome may passe against my guilt awarded
Thy evidence for truth may be reguarded.

My Mother lo, where I began to be
Conceiving me with me did sin conceive
And as with living heat shee cherisht me
Corruption did like cherishing receive
But Lo thy Love to purest good doth cleave
And inward truth, which hardly else discerned
My truant soul in Thy hidd schole hath learned

Then, as Thy self to leapers hast assignd
With hyssop Lord, thy Hyssop purg me so
And that shall cleanse the Leapry of my mind
Make over me Thy mercys streams to flow
So shall my whitness scorn the whitest snow
To eare and heart send sounds and thoughts of gladness
That bruised bones may dance away their sadness.

Thy ill-pleasd ey from my misdeeds avert
Cancell the registers my Sins contain
Create in me a pure clean spotless heart
Inspire a spirit where Love of right may reign
Ah cast me not from Thee, take not again
Thy breathing grace; again thy comfort send me
And let the guard of Thy free sprite attend me.

So I to them a guiding hand will be
Whose faulty feet have wandred from Thy way
And turnd from sin, will make return to thee
Whom turnd from thee, sin erst had led astray
O God, God of my health O do away
My bloody crime, so shall my tongue be raised
To prayse Thy truth enough can not be praysed.

Unlock my lipps, shutt up with sinfull shame
Then shall my mouth O Lord Thy honour sing
For bleeding fewell of Thy Altars flame
To gain thy grace what boots it me to bring
Burnt offrings are to Thee no pleasant thing
The sacrifice that God will hold respected
Is the heart broken soul, the sprite dejected.

Lastly, O Lord, howso I stand or fall
Leave not Thy loved Sion to embrace
But with Thy favour build up Salems wall
And still in peace maintain that peacefull place
Then shalt Thou turn a well accepting face
To Sacred Fires with offerd gifts perfumed
Till ev'n whole Calves on Altars be consumed.





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