Volume II Part 10 (1/2)

He from the hills his chrystal springs Down running to the vallies brings: Which drink supply, and coolness yield, To thirsting beasts throughout the field.

By them the fowls of heaven rest, And singing in their branches nest.

He waters from his clouds the hills; The teeming earth with plenty fills.

He gra.s.s for cattle doth produce, And every herb for human use: That so he may his creatures feed, And from the earth supply their need.

He makes the cl.u.s.ters of the vine, To glad the sons of men with wine.

He oil to clear the face imparts, And bread, the strength'ner of their hearts.

The trees, which G.o.d for fruit decreed, Nor sap, nor moistning virtue need.

The lofty cedars by his hand In Lebanon implanted stand.

Unto the birds these shelter yield, And storks upon the fir-trees build: Wild goats the hills defend, and feed, And in the rocks the conies breed.

He makes the changing moon appear, To note the seasons of the year: The sun from him his strength doth get, And knows the measure of his set.

Thou mak'st the darkness of the night, When beasts creep forth that shun the light, Young lions, roaring after prey, From G.o.d their hunger must allay.

When the bright sun casts forth his ray, Down in their dens themselves they lay.

Man's labour, with the morn begun, Continues till the day be done.

O Lord! what wonders hast thou made, In providence and wisdom laid!

The earth is with thy riches crown'd, And seas, where creatures most abound.

There go the s.h.i.+ps which swiftly fly; There great Leviathan doth lye, Who takes his pastime in the flood: All these do wait on thee for food.

Thy bounty is on them distill'd, Who are by thee with goodness fill'd.

But when thou hid'st thy face, they die, And to their dust returned lie.

Thy spirit all with life endues, The springing face of earth renews, G.o.d's glory ever shall endure, Pleas'd in his works, from change secure.

Upon the earth he looketh down, Which shrinks and trembles at his frown: His lightnings touch, or thunders stroak, Will make the proudest mountains smoak.

To him my ditties, whilst I live, Or being have, shall praises give: My meditations will be sweet, When fixt on him my comforts meet.

Upon the earth let sinners rot, In place, and memory forgot.

But thou, my soul, thy maker bless: Let all the world his praise express;

Footnotes: 1. Athen. Oxon, vol. ii. p. 431. 1721 Ed.

2. Wood Athen. Oxon, p. 431, vol. 2.

PHILIP Ma.s.sINGER,