O all you lands, the treasures of youre joye in merrie showte upon the Lord bestowe: Your service cheerefully on him emploie, with triumph songe into his presence goe: knowe firste that he is God, and after knowe, that God did us (not wee our selves) create. wee are his flocke, for us his feedings growe: wee are his folke, and he uphoulds oure state. With thankfullnes, O enter then his gate: make through each porche of his your praises ring All good, all grace of his high name relate he of all grace, all goodnes is the springe. Time in no termes, his mercie comprehends: from age to age, his truth itself extends. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I SIT AND SEW by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON LYRICS TO IANTHE (2). LAMENT by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE WHITE COMRADE (AFTER W.H. LEATHAM'S 'THE COMRADE IN WHIRE') by ROBERT HAVEN SCHAUFFLER PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 60. AL-MU'HID by EDWIN ARNOLD THE VIELD PATH by WILLIAM BARNES SOLDIERS OF FREEDOM by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE FEAST OF THE DEAD by CHARLOTTE BECKER |