Poems on several occasions. Humbly dedicated to the right honourable the Marchioness of Tavestock. By the author.
Walwyn, Herbert.
The Eighth Psalm.
HOW Excellent, O Lord my Lord's thy Name!
'Bove Heaven thy Glory spreads, thro' Earth thy Fame.
Babes thou Ordain'st their Folly to confute,
Whose Souls forbear thy Praise, whose Tongues are mute.
When on th' Heavens, thy Fingers did create
The Moon, and Stars, my Thoughts will needs dilate,
Dejection seizes me, and chills me strait:
Page 61 For what am I, methinks, to all that Might?
A vile and wandering Atome in thy Sight,
That is amaz'd to see thou dost express,
A Care preserving such, a Love to bless.
From the same Parent Men and Angels spring,
The First-born Angels, happiest Ministring,
And in the next Descent the Earthly King.
Him, with a Sovereign Look thou gavest Abroad,
A wide Dominion, held alone of God:
The fruitful World, and every People there,
Travelling Earth, or Sea, or open Air,
His Recreation, Food, and Subjects, were.
How Excellent, O Lord my Lord's thy Name!
'Bove Heaven thy Glory spreads, thro' Earth thy Fame.
