A paraphrase upon the Psalms of David by George Sandys ; set to new tunes for private devotion and a thorough-base for voice or instrument by Henry Lawes ; and in this edition carefully revised and corrected from many errors which passed in former impressions by John Playford.

About this Item

Title
A paraphrase upon the Psalms of David by George Sandys ; set to new tunes for private devotion and a thorough-base for voice or instrument by Henry Lawes ; and in this edition carefully revised and corrected from many errors which passed in former impressions by John Playford.
Author
Sandys, George, 1578-1644.
Publication
London :: Printed by W. Godbid for A. Roper,
1676.
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Subject terms
Bible. -- O.T. -- Psalms -- Paraphrases, English.
Tune-books.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A27888.0001.001
Cite this Item
"A paraphrase upon the Psalms of David by George Sandys ; set to new tunes for private devotion and a thorough-base for voice or instrument by Henry Lawes ; and in this edition carefully revised and corrected from many errors which passed in former impressions by John Playford." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A27888.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 16, 2024.

Pages

PSALM XXI.

* 1.1LOrd, in thy Salvation, In the Strength which thou hast shown, Greatly shall the King rejoyce. How will Joy exalt his Voice! Thou hast granted his request; Of his Hearts desire possest; Blest with Blessings manifold; Crown'd with sparkling Gems and Gold. Praid-for Life thou granted hast; Length of Days which never waste; By thy Safe-guard glorious made; With high Majesty array'd: Of resistless Pow'r possest; By thy favours ever blest. Lo! his Joys are infinite; Joy reflected from thy sight: For the King in God did trust. Through the Mercy of the Just,

Page 35

He shall ever fixed stand. For thy Hand, thy own right Hand, Shall thy Enemies destroy, Who would in thy ruin joy. When thy Anger shall awake, Them a flaming Furnace make. God shall swallow in his Ire, And devour them all with fire. From the Earth destroy their Fruit; Never let their Seed take root. Mischievous was their intent; All their Thoughts against me bent; Thoughts, which nothing could perform. Let thy Arrows, like a Storm, Put them to inglorious flight; On their daunted faces light. Lord, aloft thy Triumphs raise, While we sing thy Power and Praise.

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