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Home  »  Select Poetry, Chiefly Devotional, of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth  »  VI. Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke

Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.

Psalme XVI

VI. Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke

Conserva me.

SAVE me, Lord; for why? thou art

All the hope of all my hart:

Wittnesse thou, my soule, with me,

That to God, my God, I say,

Thou, my Lord, thou art my stay,

Though my workes reach not to thee.

This is all the best I prove:

Good and godly men I love;

And forsee their wretched paine,

Who to other gods doe runne:

Their blood-offerings I do shunne;

Nay, to name their names disdaine.

God my only portion is,

And of my childes part the bliss:

He then shall maintaine my lott.

Say then, is not my lott found

In a goodly pleasant ground?

Have not I faire partage gott?

Ever, Lord, I will blesse thee,

Who dost ever councell me:

Ev’n when Night with his black wing,

Sleepy Darknes, doth orecast,

In my inward raines I tast

Of my faultes and chastening.

My eyes still my God reguard,

And he my right hand doth guard;

So can I not be opprest,

So my hart is fully gladd,

So in joy my glory cladd:

Yea, my flesh in hope shall rest.

For I know the deadly grave

On my soule noe pow’r shall have:

For I know thou wilt defend

Even the body of thine own

Deare beloved holy one

From a fowle corrupting end.

Thou life’s path wilt make me knowe,

In whose view doth plenty growe

All delights that soules can crave;

And whose bodies placed stand

On thy blessed-making hand,

They all joies like-endless have.