Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.
Psalme CXLVIICVIII. Thomas Norton
P
Vnto our God to sing;
For it is pleasant, and to prayse
It is a comely thing.
The Lord, his owne Jerusalem
He buildeth vp alone,
And the disperst of Israël
Doth gather into one.
Their sores vp doth he bind;
He counts the number of the stars,
And names them in their kinde.
Great is the Lord, great is his power,
His wisedome infinite:
The Lord releeues the meeke, and throwes
To ground the wicked wight.
Vnto the Lord reioyce,
And to our God vpon the harpe
Aduance your singing voice.
He couers heauen with clouds, and for
The earth prepareth raine;
And on the mountaines he doth make
The grasse to grow againe.
Yong rauens, when they cry:
His pleasure not in strength of horse,
Nor in man’s legs doth lye:
But in all those that feare the Lord
The Lord hath his delight,
And such as doe attend vpon
His mercie’s shining light.
Thy God, O Sion, prayse;
For he the barres hath forged strong,
Wherewith thy gates he staies.
Thy children he hath blest in thee,
And in thy borders he
Doth settle peace, and with the flower
Of wheat he filleth thee.
The earth he sendeth out,
And eke his word with speedy course
Doth swiftly runne about.
He giueth snow like wool, hoar frost
Like ashes doth he spread;
Like morsels castes his ice; thereof
The cold who can abide?
And melteth them agayne;
His winde he made to blow, and then
The waters flow amayne.
The doctrine of his holy word
To Jacob did he show;
His statutes and his iudgements he
Giues Israël to know.
So delt, nor they haue knowne
His secret iudgements: ye, therefore,
Prayse ye the Lord alone.