Psalm 104 (Benedic, anima mea)

Make, O my soule, the subject of thy songe,
Th' eternall Lord: O Lord, O God of might,
To thee, to thee, all roiall pompes belonge,
Clothed art thou in state and glory bright:
For what is else this eye-delighting light;
But unto thee a garment wide and long?
The vaunted heaven but a curtaine right,
A canopy, thou over thee hast hunge?

The rafters that his parlors roofe sustaine,
In Chev'ron he on christall waters bindes:
He on the windes, he on the cloudes doth raigne,
Riding on cloudes, and walking on the windes.
Whose winged blasts his word as ready findes
To post from him, as angells of his traine:
As to effect the purposes he mindes
He makes no lesse the flamy fire faine.

By him the earth a stedfast base doth beare,
And stedfast soe, as tyme nor force can shake:
Which once round waters garment-like did weare,
And hills in seas did lowly lodging take.
But seas from hills a swift descent did make,
When swelling high by thee they chidden were:
Thy thunders rore did cause their conduites quake,
Hastning with speed their spurr of hasty feare.

So waters fledd, so mountaines high did rise,
So humble vallies deepely did descend,
All to the place thou didst for them devise:
Where bounding seas, with unremoved end,
Thou badst they should themselves no more extend,
To hide the earth which now unhidden lies:
Yet from the mountaines rocky sides didst send
Springs whispring murmurs, rivers roring cries.

Of these the beasts which on the plaines doe feede
All drink their fill: with these their thirst allay
The asses wild and all that wildly breede:
By these in their self-chosen stations stay
The free-borne fowles, which through the empty way
Of yielding aire wafted with winged speed,
To art-like notes of nature-tuned lay
Make carelesse bushes give attentive heed.

Thou, thou of heav'n the windowes dost unclose,
Dewing the mountaines with thy bounties raine:
Earth greate with young her longing doth not lose,
The hopefull ploughman hopeth not in vayne.
The vulgar grasse, whereof the beast is faine,
The rarer herb man for him self hath chose:
All things in breef, that life in life maintaine,
From Earths old bowells fresh and yongly growes.

Thence wyne, the counter-poison unto care:
Thence oile, whose juyce unplaites the folded brow:
Thence bread, our best, I say, not daintiest fare,
Prop yet of hartes, which else would weakly bow:
Thence, Lord, thy leaved people bud and blow:
Whose princes thou, thy cedars, dost not spare,
A fuller draught of thy cupp to allow,
Thus highly rais'd above the rest they are.

Yet highly rais'd they doe not proudly scorne
To give small birdes an humble entertaine,
Whose brickie neastes are on their branches borne,
While in the firrs the storks a lodging gaine.
Soe highest hills rock-loving goates sustayne;
And have their heads with clyming traces worne:
That safe in rocks the conyes may remaine,
To yield them caves, their rocky ribbs are torne.

Thou makst the moone, the empresse of the night,
Hold constant course with most unconstant face:
Thou makst the sunne the chariot-man of light,
Well knowe the start, and stop of dayly race.
When he doth sett and night his beames deface,
To roame abroade wood-burgesses delight,
Lions I meane, who roreing all that space,
Seeme then of thee to crave their food by right.

When he retornes, they all from field retire,
And lay them downe in caves their home to rest:
They rest, man stirrs to win a workmans hire,
And works till sunn hath wrought his way to west.
Eternall Lord, who greatest art, and best,
How I amaz'd thy mighty workes admire!
Wisdome in them hath every part possest,
Wherto in me no wisdome can aspire.

Behold the earth, how there thy bounties flow!
Looke on the sea extended hugely wide:
What watry troops swym, creep, and crawl, and go,
Of greate and small, on that, this, ev'ry side!
There the saile-winged shipps on waves doe glide:
Sea-monsters there, their plaies and pastymes show:
And all at once in seasonable tyde
Their hungry eyes on thee their feeder throw.

Thou givst, they take; thy hand it self displaies,
They filled feele the plenties of thy hand:
All darkned lye, deprived of thy raies,
Thou tak'st their breath, not one can longer stand.
They dye, they turne to former dust and sand,
Till thy life-giving sprite doe mustring raise
New companies, to reenforce each band,
Which still supplied, never whole decaies.

Soe may it, oh! soe may it ever goe,
Jehovas workes his glorious gladnesse be,
Who touching mountaynes, mountaynes smoaking grow,
Who eyeing Earth, Earth quakes with quivering knee.
As for my self, my seely self, in me
While life shall last, his worth in song to show
I framed have a resolute decree,
And thankfull be, till being I forgoe.

O that my song might good acceptance finde:
How should my hart in greate Jehova joy!
O that some plague this irreligious kinde,
Ingrate to God, would from the earth destroy!
Meane while my soule uncessantly employ.
To high Jehovas praise my mouth and mynd:
Nay, all (since all his benefitts enjoy)
Praise him whom bandes of time noe age can binde.