Psalm 34 (Benedicam Domino)

I, even I, will allwaies
Give harty thancks to hym on high,
And in my mouth contynually
Inhabit shall his praise.
My soule shall glory still
In that deere Lord with true delight:
That hearing it, the hartes contrite
May learne their joyes to fill.

Come then, and joyne with me,
Somwhat to speake of his due praise:
Strive we, that in some worthy phrase
His name may honor'd be.
Thus I beginne: I sought
This Lord, and he did heare my cry:
Yea, and from dreadfull misery,
He me, he only brought.

This shall mens fancies frame
To looke and runne to hym for aide,
Whose faces on his comfort staid
Shall never blush for shame.
For lo, this wretch did call,
And lo, his call the skies did clime:
And God freed hym in his worst tyme
From out his troubles all.

His angells armies round
Aboute them pitch, who hym do feare:
And watch, and ward for such do beare,
To keepe them safe and sounde.
I say, but tast and see,
How sweete how gratious is his grace:
Lord hee is in thrice blessed case
Whose trust is all on thee.

Feare God, ye saintes of his,
For nothing they can ever want
Who faithfull feares in hym do plant;
They have, and shall have blisse.
The lions ofte lack foode,
Those ravenors whelps oft starved be:
But who seeke God with constancy
Shall nothing neede that's good.

Come, children, lend your eare
To me, and mark what I do saye;
For I will teach to you the waye
How this our Lord to feare.
Among you, who is heare,
That life, and length of life requires,
And blessing such, with length desires,
As life may good appeare.

Keepe well thy lipps and tongue,
Least inward ills doe them defile;
Or that by wordes enwrapt in guile
Another man be stung.
Doe good, from faultes declyne,
Seeke peace, and follow after it:
For Gods own eyes on good men sit,
His eares to them enclyne.

Soe his high heavenly face
Is bent, but bent against those same
That wicked be, their very name
From earth quite to displace.
The just, when harmes approach,
Do cry, their cry of hym is heard;
And by his care from them is barr'd
All trouble, all reproach.

To humble broken myndes,
This Lord is ever, ever neere;
And will save whome his true sight cleere
In sprite afflicted findes.
Indeede the very best
Most greate and greevous paines doth beare-:
But God shall him to safety reare,
When most he seemes opprest.

His bones he keepeth all,
So that not one of them is broke;
But malice shall the wicked choak,
Who hateth God shall fall.
God doth all soules redeeme
Who weare his blessed livery:
None, still I say, shall ruined be,
Who hym their truth esteeme.