THE TRANSLATION OF THE CIVxH PSALM. 



FATHER and King of pow rs, both high and low. 

 Whose sounding fame all creatures serve to blow; 

 My soul shall with the rest strike up thy praise, 

 And carol of thy works and wondrous ways. 

 But who can blaze thy beauties, Lord, aright ? 

 They turn the brittle beams of mortal sight. 

 Upon thy head thou wear st a glorious crown, 

 All set with virtues polish d with renown : 

 Thence round about a silver veil doth fall 

 Of crystal light, mother of colours all. 

 The compass heav n, smooth without grain, or fold, 

 All set with spangs of glitt ring stars untold, 

 And strip d with golden beams of power unpent, 

 Is raised up for a removing tent. 

 Vaulted and arched are his chamber beams 

 Upon the seas, the waters, and the streams : 

 The clouds as chariots swift do scour the sky ; 

 The stormy winds upon their wings do fly. 

 His angels spirits are, that wait his will, 

 As flames of fire his anger they fulfil. 

 In the beginning, with a mighty hand, 

 He made the earth by counterpoise to stand, 

 Never to move, but to be fixed still ; 

 Yet hath no pillars but his sacred will. 



