The Psalms of David in meter fitted to the tunes used in parish-churches / by John Patrick ...
About this Item
- Title
- The Psalms of David in meter fitted to the tunes used in parish-churches / by John Patrick ...
- Author
- Patrick, John, 1632-1695.
- Publication
- London :: Printed for A. and J. Churchill ... and L. Meredith ...,
- 1694.
- Rights/Permissions
-
This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this text, in whole or in part. Please contact project staff at eebotcp-info@umich.edu for further information or permissions.
- Subject terms
- Bible. -- O.T. -- Psalms -- Paraphrases, English.
- Psalters.
- Cite this Item
-
"The Psalms of David in meter fitted to the tunes used in parish-churches / by John Patrick ..." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A27944.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 8, 2024.
Pages
Page 34
Him that to crooked ways inclines
He'll cross, and ruine his designs.
[ 27] God with deliverance will crown
Th' afflicted, and the proud bring down.
[ 28] He makes my dimmer Lamp burn bright
Turns my dark state to joy and Light.
[ 29] A Troop of foes before me falls;
By him I scale their highest walls.
[ 30] God's dealings equal are and just;
His word so try'd, none need distrust:
He as a shield will those defend,
Who with firm faith on him depend.
[ 31] What God, among the Heav'nly Pow'rs,
Or Rock for safety, is like ours?
[ 32] Courage he gives, when danger's nigh,
And clears my way to Victory.
[ 33] By him my foes, with swiftest pace,
O'er high and cragged hills I chase.
[ 34] He skill in Arms on me bestows,
And strength to break the strongest bows.
[ 35] When Numbers would have made me yield,
He interpos'd his saving shield:
His hand upheld me, and I grew
Great and victorious with a few.
[ 36] He' enlarg'd my steps on every side,
And suffered not my feet to slide.
[ 37] My foes, put to a shameful flight,
I chas'd, till I destroy'd them quite.
[ 38] The wounded their hard fate deplore,
And could renew the fight no more:
Page 35
The proud that bore their head so high,
Now at my feet all prostrate lie.