Psalm 48

GReat is the LORD, his praise no less:
For so must we record,
In mountain of his holiness,
And Citie of our Lord.
Mount Sion is a beauteous thing,
And on her Northern side
The Citie of the mightie King,
The whole earths joy and pride.
The LORD within her palace there,
Is known a refuge nigh:
For lo, the Kings assembled were,
Together they past-by.
They saw it, and they marvailed,
And troubled sore they were:
They hasted thence, for fear and dread,
Which seis'd upon them there.
As child bed-pains take woman-kinde,
So sorely pain'd were they:
Thou breakest with an Eastern winde
The Tarsean ships at Sea.
I'th Citie of this King of pow'rs,
We saw as we were told:
The Citie of this God of ours,
God ever shall uphold.
We thought on thy compassions (Lord)
Amidst thy Temples frame:
All ends of earth thy praise record,
According to thy Name.
Thy right hand's full of righteousness,
Lord, let thy Judgments voice
Make Judahs daughters joy express,
And Sion hill rejoyce.
Walk round about and Sion view,
Her stately turrets tell:
Her palaces consider you,
And mark her bulwarks well.
That so to all posteritie,
It may be testifi'd,
This God, our God perpetually,
Till death will be our guide.