Page:The Works of Francis Bacon (1884) Volume 2.djvu/445

Rh 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.

This earth, as with a veil, once cover'd was,

The waters over-flowed all the mass:

But upon his rebuke away they fled,

And then the hills began to show their head;

The vales their hollow bosoms open'd plain,

The streams ran trembling down the vales again:

And that the earth no more might drowned be,

He set the sea his bounds of liberty;

And though his waves resound, and beat the shore,

Yet it is bridled by his holy lore.

Then did the rivers seek their proper places,

And found their heads, their issues, and their races;

The springs do feed the rivers all the way,

And so the tribute to the sea repay:

Running along through many a pleasant field,

Much fruitfulness unto the earth they yield:

That know the beasts and cattle feeding by,

Which for to slake their thirst do thither hie.

Nay, desert grounds the streams do not forsake,

But through the unknown ways their journey take:

The asses wild, that hide in wilderness,

Do thither come, their thirst for to refresh.

The shady trees along their banks do spring,

In which the birds do build, and sit, and sing;

Stroking the gentle air with pleasant notes,

Plaining, or chirping through their warbling throats.

The higher grounds, where waters cannot rise,

By rain and dews are water'd from the skies;

Causing the earth put forth the grass for beasts,

And garden herbs, served at the greatest feasts;

And bread, that is all viands firmament,

And gives a firm and solid nourishment;

And wine, man's spirits for to recreate;

And oil, his face for to exhilarate.

The sappy cedars, tall like stately towers,

High-flying birds do harbour in their bowers:

The holy storks, that are the travellers,

Choose for to dwell and build within the firs;

The climbing goats hang on steep mountains' side;

The digging conies in the rocks do bide.

The moon, so constant in inconstancy,

Doth rule the monthly seasons orderly;

The sun, eye of the world, doth know his race,

And when to show, and when to hide his face.

Thou makest darkness, that it may be night,

When as the savage beasts, that fly the light,

As conscious of man's hatred, leave their den,

And range abroad, secured from sight of men.

Then do the forests ring of lions roaring,

That ask their meat of God, their strength restoring;

But when the day appears, they back do fly,

And in their dens again do lurking lie.

Then man goes forth to labour in the field,

Whereby his grounds more rich increase may yield.

O Lord, thy providence sufficeth all;

Thy goodness, not restrained, but general

Over thy creatures: the whole earth doth flow

With thy great largess pour'd forth here below.

Nor is it earth alone exalts thy name,

But seas and streams likewise do spread the same.

The rolling seas unto the lot doth fall

Of beasts innumerable, great and small;

There do the stately ships plow up the floods,

The greater navies look like walking woods;

The fishes there far voyages do make,

To divers shores their journey they do take.

There hast thou set the great Leviathan,

That makes the seas to seeth like boiling pan.

All these do ask of thee their meat to live,

Which in due season thou to them dost give.

Ope thou thy hand, and then they have good fare;

Shut thou thy hand, and then they troubled are.

All life and spirit from thy breath proceed,

Thy word doth all things generate and feed.

If thou withdraw'st it, then they cease to be,

And straight return to dust and vanity;

But when thy breath thou dost send forth again,

Then all things do renew and spring amain;

So that the earth, but lately desolate,

Doth now return unto the former state.

The glorious majesty of God above

Shall ever reign in mercy and in love:

God shall rejoice all his fair works to see,

For as they come from him all perfect be.

The earth shall quake, if aught his wrath provoke;

Let him but touch the mountains, they shall smoke.

As long as life doth last I hymns will sing,

With cheerful voice, to the eternal King;

As long as I have being, I will praise

The works of God, and all his wondrous ways.

I know that he my words will not despise,

Thanksgiving is to him a sacrifice.

But as for sinners they shall be destroy'd

From off" the earth, their places shall be void.

Let all his works praise him with one accord;

O praise the Lord, my soul; praise ye the Lord!

God return'd us graciously

Unto our native land,

We seem'd as in a dream to be,

And in a maze to stand.