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August 13, 1653.
LORD, in thy anger do not reprehend me,
Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;
Pity me, Lord, for I am much deject,
Are troubled; yea, my soul is troubled sore;
And thou, O Lord, how long? Turn, Lord; restore My soul; oh, save me, for thy goodness' sake! For in death no remembrance is of thee;
Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise ?
Wearied I am with sighing out my days; Nightly my couch I make a kind of sea ; My bed I water with my tears; mine eye
Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark
I' the midst of all mine enemies that mark.
The Lord hath heard ; the Lord hath heard my prayer ;
My supplication with acceptance fair
With much confusion; then, grown red with shame,
They shall return in haste the way they came, And in a moment shall be quite abashed.
August 14, 1653.
LORD, my God, to thee I fly;
Thy protection while I cry;
Lord, my God, if I have thought
So the assemblies of each nation
Of evil men the wickedness,
But the just establish fast,
God is a just judge and severe,
(His arrows purposely made he
August 14, 1653.
O JEHOVAH our Lord, how wondrous great
And glorious is thy name through all the earth, So as above the heavens thy praise to set !
Out of the tender mouths of latest bearth, Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou
Hast founded strength, because of all thy foes, To stint the enemy, and slack the avenger's brow,
That bends his rage thy providence to oppose.
When I behold thy heavens, thy fingers' art,
The moon and stars, which thou so bright hast set In the pure firmament, then saith my heart,
Oh, what is man that thou rememberest yet And think'st upon him, or of man begot
That him thou visit'st, and of him art found ? Scarce to be less than gods thou mad'st his lot;
With honour and with state thou hast him crowned.
O'er the works of thy hand thou mad'st him lord ;
Thou hast put all under his lordly feet,
All beasts that in the field or forest meet,
Sea-paths in shoals do slide, and know no dearth.
And glorious is thy name through all the earth!
SCRAPS FROM THE PROSE WRITINGS.
FROM “OF REFORMATION TOUCHING CHURCH DISCI
PLINE IN ENGLAND," 1641.
[DANTE, Inferno, xix. 115.)
AH, Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
[PETRARCH, Sonnet 107.) FOUNDED in chaste and humble poverty, 'Gainst them that raised thee dost thou lift thy horn, Impudent whore? Where hast thou placed thy hope ? In thy adulterers, or thy ill-got wealth ? Another Constantine comes not in haste.
[ARIOSTO, Orl. Fur. xxxiv. Stanz. 80.]
FROM THE APOLOGY FOR SMECTYMNUUS, 1642.
[HORACE, Sat. i. 1, 24.]
LAUGHING to teach the truth