Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PHILOSOPHERS DEVOTION, by HENRY MORE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE PHILOSOPHERS DEVOTION, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Sing aloud his praise rehearse
Last Line: Who hath made the universe.


Sing aloud His praise rehearse
Who hath made the Universe.
He the boundlesse Heavens has spread
All the vitall orbs has kned;
He that on Olympus high
Tends his flocks with watchfull eye,
And this eye has multiplide
Midst each flock for to reside.
Thus as round about they stray
Toucheth each with out-stretch'd ray,
Nimble they hold on their way,
Shaping out their Night and Day.
Summer, Winter, Autumne, Spring,
Their inclined Axes bring.
Never slack they; none respires,
Dancing round their Centrall fires.
In due order as they move
Echo's sweet be gently drove
Thorough Heavens vast Hollownesse,
Which unto all corners presse:
Musick that the heart of Jove
Moves to joy and sportfull love;
Fills the listning saylers eares
Riding on the wandring Sphears.
Neither Speech nor Language is
Where their voice is not transmisse.
God is good, is Wise, is Strong,
Witnesse all the creature-throng,
Is confess'd by every Tongue.
All things back from whence they sprong,
As the thankfull Rivers pay
What they borrowed of the Sea.
Now my self I do resigne,
Take me whole; I all am thine.
Save me, God! from Self-desire,
Deaths pit, dark Hells raging fire,
Envy, Hatred, Vengeance, Ire.
Let not Lust my soul bemire.
Quit from these thy praise I'll sing,
Loudly sweep the trembling string.
Bear a part, O Wisdomes sonnes!
Free'd from vain Religions.
Lo! from farre I you salute,
Sweetly warbling on my Lute.
Indie, Egypt, Arabie,
Asia, Greece, and Tartarie,
Carmel-tracts, and Lebanon
With the Mountains of the Moon,
From whence muddie Nile doth runne
Or where ever else you wonne;
Breathing in one vitall air,
One we are though distant farre.
Rise at once; let's sacrifice.
Odours sweet perfume the skies.
See how Heavenly lightning fires
Hearts inflam'd with high aspires!
All the substance of our souls
Up in clouds of Incense rolls.
Leave we nothing to our selves
Save a voice, what need we els!
Or an hand to wear and tire
On the thankfull Lute or Lyre.
Sing aloud His praise rehearse
Who hath made the Universe.





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