Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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

A Song of the Faithfull

X. Michael Drayton

LORD, at thy voice my heart for feare hath trembled;

Vnto the world, Lord, let thy workes be showen:

In these our daies now let thy power be knowen,

And yet in wrath let mercie he remembred.

From Teman, loe, our God you may behold,

The Holie One from Paran mount so hie;

His glorie hath cleane couered the skie,

And in the earth his praises be inrolde.

His shining was more clearer than the light,

And from his hands a fulnesse did proceed,

Which did contain his wrath and power indeed:

Consuming plagues and fire were in his sight.

He stood aloft and compassed the land,

And of the nations doth defusion make;

The mountaines rent, the hilles for feare did quake,—

His vnknown pathes no man may vnderstand.

The Morians’ tentes euen for their wickednes

I might behold, the land of Midian

Amaz’d and trembling, like vnto a man

Forsaken quite, and left in great distresse.

What, did the riuers moue the Lord to ire?

Or did the floods his Maiesty displease?

Or was the Lord offended with the seas,

That thou camest forth in chariot hot as fire?

Thy force and power thou freely didst relate;

Vnto the tribes thy oath doth surely stand;

And by thy strength thou didst diuide the land,

And from the earth the riuers separate.

The mountaines saw and trembled for feare,

The sturdy streame with speed foorth passed by;

The mighty depthes shout out a hideous crie,

And then aloft their waues they did vpreare.

The sun and moon amid their course stood still,

The speares and arrowes forth with shining went;

Thou spoilest the land, being to anger bent,

And in displeasure thou didst slay and kill.

Thou wentest foorth for thine owne chosen’s sake,

For the sauegard of thine annointed one;

The house of wicked men is ouerthrowne,

And their foundations now goe all to wracke.

Their townes thou strikest by thy mightie power

With their own weapons, made for their defence,

Who like a whyrlwind came with the pretence

The poore and simple man quite to deuoure.

Thou madest thy horse on seas to gallop fast;

Vpon the waues thou ridest here and there:

My intrals trembled then for verie feare,

And at thy voice my lips shooke at the last.

Griefe pierc’d my bones, and feare did me annoy,

In time of trouble where I might find rest:

For to reuenge when once the Lord is prest,

With plagues he wil the people quite destroy.

The fig-tree now no more shall sprout nor flourish;

The pleasant vine no more with grapes abound;

No pleasure in the citie shall be found,

The field no more her fruit shal feed nor nourish.

The sheep shall now be taken from the fold;

In stall of bullocks there shall be no choice:

Yet in the Lord my Sauiour I reioice;

My hope in God yet wil I surely hold.

God is my strength, the Lord my only stay;

My feet for swiftnesse it is he will make

Like to the hind’s, who none in course can take:

Vpon high places he will make me way.