Luke 1 (II)

O Praise the Lord, his Wonders tell,
Whose Mercy shines in Israel;
At length redeem'd from Sinne and Hell.

The Crowne of our Salvation,
Deriv'd from Davids royall Throne,
He now hath to his People showne.

This to his Prophets did unfold;
By all successively foretold,
Vntill the infant World grew old.

That he our wrongs would vindicate,
Save from our foes inveterate hate,
And raise our long deprest estate.

To ratifie his ancient Deed,
His promis'd Grace, by oath decreed,
To Abraham, and his faithfull Seed.

That we might our Preserver praise,
Walke purely in his perfect wayes,
And fearelesse serve him all our dayes.

His path thou shalt prepare, sweet Child,
And run before the Vndefil'd;
The Prophet of th'Almighty stil'd.

Our knowledge to informe, from whence
Salvation springs: from penitence,
And pardon of each foule offence.

Through mercy, O how infinite!
Of our great God, who cleares our sight,
And from the Orient sheds his Light.

A leading Starre t'enlighten those,
Whom Night, and shades of Death inclose;
Which that high Tract to glory showes.