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.
Rights/Permissions
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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 15, 2024.
Pages
PSALM LVIII.
* 1.1PErnicious Counsellors! Give youSincere advice? to Justice true?Or Virtue but in show pursue?
Your Hearts are still on Mischief bent;Your Hands impure and violent;Nor favour Truth, nor Wrong prevent.
Even from the womb they blindly stray;Born, and perverted in one day;Lie, slander, flatter, and betray:
Like Serpents, with black poyson swell;And charm th' Inchanter ne're so well,More deaf than Asps, his Charms repel.
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Lord, slit their Tongues, before they speak;Strike out their Teeth, which tear the Weak;And the young Lions grinders break.
As Sun-beat Snow, so let them thaw;And when their weak'ned Bows they draw,Let their crack'd Arrows flie like straw.
Let them like Snails consume away;And as untimely Births decay,Which never saw the cheerful Day.
Before their pots can feel the brier,God in the Whirl-wind of his Ire,Shall blast alive, and burn with fire.
Sin with Revenge at length shall meet;The Godly shall rejoyce to see't;And in their blood shall wash their feet.
Then erring Mortals shall confess,There are Rewards for Righteousness,And Plagues for such as do transgress,