How apt thou art: compassion still to take;
How prone to pitty; &, to wrath, how slowe.
In doeng good; to all, thou Lord, art free.
Thy Mercies are, vpon thy Creatures, all.
Kept glorious, by thy deeds, thy praises bee
And, therfor, all thy Saints, confesse thee shall.
Lord, of thy kingdome's glorie, they shall tell,
And (shewing ev'ry where, what powre, thou hast)
Make knowne how much thy mighty Acts excell;
And, with what state, thy royall Throne is plac't.
Not as a king that's only temporall;
For, endles & eternall is thy throne.
On thee, who e're depends, though he should fall,
Thou, Lord, wilt lift him vp, when he is down.
Plac'd are on thee, all creatures eyes, oh God!
And, thou dost give them food, in season, still.
Quite open, thou dost reach thy hand abrode,
Each living Creatures longing, to fulfill.
Right just, thou art, oh Lord, in all thy wayes;
And (as in all thy works thou holy art)
So, thou art near to ev'ry one that praies;
To all, that seek to thee, with honest hart.
To thē, that fear thy Name, their wish thou giv'st;
And, such as call vpon thee, thou wilt save.
Vngodly men, of safety thou depriv'st
But, all thy Lovers, thy protection have.
Wherefore, oh Lord to publish out thy fame,
In praisefull wise, my mouth shall still endeaver
Yea, & all flesh, shall blesse thy holy Name,
And praise the same, for ever, & for ever.