Save me Lord, for why thou art
All the hope of all my hart:
Wittnesse thou my soule with me,
That to God, my God I say;
Thou my Lord, thou art my stay,
Though my workes reach not to thee.
This is all the best I prove:
Good and godly men I love:
And forsee their wretched paine,
Who to other gods doe runne:
Their blood offrings I do shunne,
Nay to name their names disdaine.
God my only portion is,
And of my childes part the blisse:
He then shall maintaine my lott.
Say then is not my lott found
In a goodly pleasant ground?
Have not I faire partage gott?
Ever Lord I will blesse thee,
Who dost ever councell me,
Ev’n when night with his black wing
Sleepy darknes doth orecast,
In my inward raines I tast
Of my faultes and chastening.
My eyes still my God reguard,
And he my right hand doth guard;
So can I not be opprest,
So my hart is fully gladd,
So in joy my glory cladd,
Yea my flesh in hope shall rest.
For I know the deadly grave
On my soule noe pow’r shall have:
For I know thou wilt defend
Even the body of thine own
Deare beloved holy one,
From a fowle corrupting end.
Thou lifes path wilt make me knowe
In whose view doth plenty growe
All delights that soules can crave
And whose bodies placed stand
On thy blessed-making hand
They all joies like-endless have.