6 The Lord shall write it in a Scrowle
That ne're shall be out-worn
When he the Nations doth enrowle
That this man there was born.
7 Both they who sing, and they who dance
[With sacred Songs are there,]
In thee [fresh brooks, and soft streams glance]
[And] all my fountains [clear.]
Psalm LXXXVIII.
1 Lord God that dost me save and keep,
All day to thee I cry;
And all night long, before the [weep]
Before thee [prostrate lie.]
2 Into thy presence let my praier
[With sighs devout ascend]
And to my cries, that [ceaseless are,]
Thine ear with favour bend.
3 For cloy'd with woes and trouble store
Surcharg'd my Soul doth lie,
My life [at death' s uncherful dore]
Unto the grave draws nigh.
4 Reck'n'd I am with them that pass
Down to the [dismal] pit
I am a man, but weak alas
And for that name unfit.
5 From life discharg'd and parted quite
Among the dead [to sleep,]
And like the slain [in bloody fight]
That in the grave lie [deep.]
Whom thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard,
Them from thy hand deliver'd o're
[Deaths hideous house hath barr'd.
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