For a Musician

What helps it those,
Who skill in song have found,
Well to compose
Of disagreeing notes,
By artful choice,
A sweetly pleasing sound,
To fit their voice,
And their melodious throats?
What helps it them
That they this cunning know,
If most condemn
The way in which they go?

What will he gain
By touching well his lute,
Who shall disdain
A grave advice to hear?
What from the sounds
Of organ, fife, or lute,
To him redounds,
Who doth no sin forbear?
A mean respect
By tuning strings he hath,
Who doth neglect
A rectified path.

Therefore, O Lord!
So tuned let me be
Unto Thy Word,
And Thy ten-stringed law,
That in each part
I may thereto agree,
And feel my heart
Inspired with loving awe;
He sings and plays
The songs which best Thou lovest,
Who does and says
The things which Thou approvest.

Teach me the skill
Of him whose harp assuaged
Those passions ill
Which oft afflicted Saul;
Teach me the strain
Which calmeth minds enraged,
And which from vain
Affections doth recal:
So to the choir
Where angels music make,
I may aspire
When I this life forsake.