Psalm 132 (Memento, Domine)

Lord call to mind, nay keepe in minde
Thy David and thy Davids paines:
Who once by oath and vow did bind
Himself to him who ay remaynes:
That mighty one,
The God in Jacob known.

My howse shall never harbor mee,
Nor bedd allow my body rest,
Nor eyes of sleepe the lodging bee,
Nor eye-lidds slendrest slumbers nest,
Untill I finde
A plott to please my mind.

I find, I say, my mind to please
A plott wheron I may erect
A howse for him to dwell at ease,
Who is ador'd with due respect:
That mighty one
The God in Jacob known.

The plott thy David then did name,
We heard at Ephrata it lay:
We heard, but bent to find the same,
Were faine to seeke an other way:
Ev'n to the fields
That woody tear yeelds.

And yet not there, but here, O here
We find now settled what we sought:
Before the stoole thy feete doth beare
Now entring in, we, as we ought,
Adore thee will,
And duly worship still.

Then enter, Lord, thy fixed rest,
With arke the token of thy strength,
And let thy priests be purely drest
In robes of justice laied at length:
Let them bee glad
Thy gracefull blisse have had.

For David once thy servants sake
Doe not our kings his seede reject:
For thou to him this oath did'st make,
This endles oath: I will erect,
And hold thy race
Enthron'd in roiall place.

Nay if thy race my league observe,
And keepe the cov'nants I sett down,
Their race againe I will preserve
Eternally to wear thy crown:
No lesse thy throne
Shall ever be their owne.

For Syon which I loved best,
I chosen have noe seate of change:
Here, here shall bee my endless rest,
Here will I dwell, nor hence will range:
Unto the place
I beare such love and grace.

Such grace and love that evermore
A blisse from gratious loving me,
Shall bless her vittaile, blesse her store,
That ev'n the poore who in her be
With store of bread
Shall fully all be fedd.

In her my priests shall nought anoy:
Nay cladd they shall with safty be.
O how in her with cause shall joy
Who there as tenants hold of me!
Whose tenure is
By grace my fields of blisse.

O how in her shall sprowt and spring
The scepter Davids hand did beare
How I my Christ, my sacred king,
As light in lantern placed there,
With beames divine
Will make abroad to shine!

But as for them who spite and hate
Conceave to him, they all shall down,
Down cast by mee to shamefull state,
While on him self his happy crown
Shall up to skies
With fame and glory rise.