Psalm 49 (Audite haec, omnes)

World-dwellers all, give heede to what I saie;
To all I speake, to rich, poore, high and low;
Knowledge the subject is my heart conceaves,
Wisdome the wordes shall from my mouth proceed,
Which I will measure by melodious eare,
And ridled speech to tuned harp accord.

The times of evil why should they me dismaie?
When mischief shall my foote stepps overflow?
And first from him whom fickle wealth deceaves,
Which his too greate vaine confidence doth breed,
Since no man can his brothers life outbeare,
Nor yeeld for him his ransome to the Lord.

For deere the price that for a soule must paie,
And death his prisoner never will forgoe.
Naie, tell mee whome, but longer time hee leaves
Respited from the tombe for treasures meed?
Sure at his summons wise and fooles appeare,
And others spend the riches they did hoard.

A second thinkes his house shall not decaie,
Nor time his glorious buildings overthrow,
Nam'd proudlie of his name: where folly reaves
Exalted men of sence, and theie indeed
A brutish life and death, as beasts they weare,
Doe live and die, of whom is no record.

Yea these, whose race approves their peevish waie,
Death in the pitt his carrion foode doth stow:
And loe, the first succeeding light perceaves
The just installed in the greate mans steed;
Nay far his prince: when once that lovely cheere,
Lovely in house, in tombe becomes abhord.

But God, my God, to intercept the praie
Of my life from the grave will not foreslowe,
For he it is, he only me receaves:
Then though one rich doe grow though glories seede
Spring with encrease: yet stand thou free from feare,
Of all his pomp death shall him nought affoord.

Please they them selves, and think at happiest stay
Who please them selves: yet to their fathers goe
Must they to endles dark: for folly reaves
Exalted men of sence, and they indeede
A brutish life and death, as beastes they weare,
Doe live, and die, of whome is noe record.