Classic Poem

My Soule praise thou Iehouahs holie Name,
For he is great, and of exceeding Might,
Who cloth'd with Glorie, Maiestie, and Fame,
And couered with the garments of the light,
 The azure Heauen doth like a Courtaine spred,
 And in the depths his chalmer beames hath layd.

The Clouds he makes his chariot to be,
On them he wheeles the christall Skies about,
And on the wings of Æolus , doth Hee
At pleasour walke; and sends his Angels out,
  Swift Heraulds that doe execute his will,
 His words the heauens with firie lightnings fill.

The Earths foundation he did firmelie place,
And layd it so that it should neuer slyde,
He made the Depths her round about embrace,
And like a Robe her naked shores to hide,
 Whose waters would o'rflow the Mountains high,
 But that they backe at his rebuke doe flie.

At the dread voice of his consuming thunder,
As these retire, the mountaines in the Skie
Doe raise their tops, like Pyramids of wonder,
And at their feet the pleasant valleys lie,
 And to the floods he doth prescribe a Bound,
 That they Earths beautie may no more confound.

The fertile Plaines he doth refresh and cheare
With pleasant Streames which from the Mountaines fall,
To which (to quench their Thirst) all Beastes draw neare,
Euen to the Asse whom neuer Yoake did thrall:
 And on the Trees by euery chrystall Spring,
 Heauens Quiristers doe sweetly bill and sing.

The thirstie Tops of Skie-menacing Hils
He from the Clouds refresheth with his Raine,
And with the Goodnes of his Grace he fills
The Earth, with all that doth therein remaine,
 He causeth her both Man and Beast to feede
 The wholesome Herbes, and tender Grasse to breede.

The fruitfull Yuie strict-embracing Vine,
To glad Mans Heart he hath ordaind and made,
And giues him oyle to make his Face to shine,
And to encrease his Strength, and Courage breede,
 The mighty Trees are nourishd by his hand,
 The Cedars tall in Lebanon that stand.

On Whose wide-spreading, high and bushie Tops,
The flightering Birds may build their Nests in peace,
And in the Firre that pitchie Teares foorth drops,
He hath preparde the Storke a dwelling Place.
 The Mountaines are vnto the Goates refuge,
 And in the Rockes the Porcupines doe lodge.

He hath appointed Seasons for the Moone,
To fade, to grow, whiles fair to looke, whiles wane,
And makes bright Phœbus when the Day is done,
In THETIS Lappe to diue his head againe:
 He clowdes the Skies, and doth in Darknes pight,
 Our all the Earth the Courtaines of the Night.

Then all the beastes from out the forrest creepe,
To seeke his pray the Lyon loudlie roares,
The Serpents hisse, the Crocodile doth weepe,
As if she would bewaile them she deuoures,
 And when the Sunne returnes they all retire,
 And in their Dennes doe couch them selues for feare.

And then doth man in safetie freelie goe,
To ply his worke with diligence till Night,
They wondrous wonders who, O Lord, can show?
The earth is filled with thy Glory bright,
 And thou hast stor'd the Deepe-wyd Ocean Sea,
 With Fish, Beasts, Monsters, nomberles that be.

There doe the Winged Wooden Forts forth goe,
To climbe the glassie mountaines with their Keeles,
There Liuiathan wanders to and fro,
And through the waltring Billows tumbling reeles,
 Who in that Liquid Labyrinth enclos'd
 Doth play and sport as thou him hast dispos'd.

All liuing things, O Lord, doe wait on thee
That in due season thou mayst giue them food,
And thou vnfolds thy liberall hands most free
And giues them euerie thing may doe them good:
 Thy blessings thou so plenteouslie distills,
 That their aboundance all things breathing fills.

But if thy face thou doe withdraw in wrath,
Thy creatures all then languish, grieue and murne,
Or if thou angrie take away their breath,
They perish straight and into dust returne:
 But when thy Sprite thou sends them to renew,
 All fresh doth flowrish, Earth regaines her hue.

In his most glorious workes let God reioyce,
Who makes the Earth to tremble with a looke,
Let men admire, and Angels with their voice
Extoll his Name whose touch makes Mountaines smooke;
 To this thought-passing speech-expreslesse, Lord,
 While Breath extends will I still praise afford.

He will receiue my humble sute in loue,
And in his fauour I shall euer joye,
The wicked from the Earth he will remoue,
And whollie heauen-dispising wormes destroy.
 But whilst they buried lie in endlesse shame,
 My Soule praise thou Iehouahs holy Name.