Lord call to mynde, lord keepe in mynde: Thy David, and thy Davids paines whoe once by oathe, and vowe did bynde himself to him, whoe aye remaines That mightie one The God in Jacob knowne. My howse shall never harbour mee nor bedd allowe my bodie rest: Nor eyes of sleepe, the lodging be nor eyelidds slenderest slumbers nest untill I finde a plott to please my mynde. I finde I saie, my mynde to please: a plott, whereon I maie erect A howse for him to dwell at ease whoe is ador'd with due respect That mightie one The God in Jacob knowne. The plott thy David then did name wee heard at Ephrata it laie: Wee heard, but bent to finde the same, were faine to seeke another waie ev'n to the fields that woodie Jear yeelds. And yet not there, but here, O here, wee finde now settled what wee sought before the Stoole, thy foote doth beare nowe entring in, wee as wee ought adore thee will and dulie worshipp still. Then enter lord, thy fixed rest with Arke the token of thy strength And let thy Priests be purelie drest In robes of Justice laide at length. Let them be gladd thy gracefull blisse have hadd. For David once thy servants sake, Doe not oure Kinge his seede reject: ffor thou to him this oath didst make: This endles oath: I will erect and howld thy race enthron'd in royall place. Naie if thy race my league observe and keepe the Covenants I sett downe: Theire race againe I will preserve Eternally to weare thy Crowne no lesse thy throane shall ever be theire owne For Sion, which I loved best, I chosen have no seate of chaunge: heere heere shalbe my endles rest, heere will I dwell nor hence will raunge unto the place I beare such love, and grace Such grace, and love, that evermore as blisse from gracious loving mee shall blesse her victuall, blesse her store, that ev'n the poore, whoe in her be with store of bread shall fully all be fedd In her, my priests shall nought annoye naie cladd they shall with safetie be: O howe in her with cawse shall joye, whoe there as Tennants howld of mee whose tenure is by grace the fields of blisse. O howe in her shall sprowte, and springe the Scepter Davids hand did beare: howe I my Christ, my sacred kinge as light in lanthorne placed there with beames divine will make abrode to shine. But as for them, whoe spite and hate conceave to him, they all shall downe: Downecast by mee, to shamefull state: while on him himself his happie Crowne shall up to skies with fame and glorie rise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIGHT MUST WIN by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER A DIALOGUE ANTHEM by GEORGE HERBERT DANIEL WEBSTER by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES NEW FRIENDS AND OLD FRIENDS by JOSEPH PARRY WE ARE SEVEN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |