[Nine] Tunes for Archbishop Parker's Psalter

Man blest no doubt who walk'th not out
In wicked men's affairs,
And stand'th no day in sinner's way
Nor sit'th in scorner's chairs;
But hath his will in God's law still,
This law to love aright,
And will him use, on it to muse,
To keep it day and night.

Let God arise in majesty
And scattered be his foes.
Yea, flee they all his sight in face,
To him which hateful goes.
As smoke is driv'n and com'th to naught,
Repulse their tyranny.
At face of fire, as wax doth melt,
God's face the bad must fly.

1  Why fumeth in fight: the Gentils spite,
In fury raging stout?
Why taketh in hond: the people fond,
Uayne thinges to bring about?

2. The kinges arise: the lordes deuise,
in counsayles mett therto:
Agaynst the Lord: with false accord,
against his Christ they go.

3. Let vs they say: breake downe their ray,
of all their bondes and cordes:
We will renounce: that they pronounce,
their loores as stately lordes.

4. But God of might: in heauen so bright,
Shall laugh them all to scorne:
The Lord on hie: shall them defie,
they shall be once forlorne.

5. Then shall his ire: speake all in fire,
to them agayne therfore:
He shall with threate: their malice beate,
in his displeasure sore.

6. Yet am I set: a king so great,
on Sion hill full fast:
Though me they kill: yet will that hill,
my lawe and worde outcast.

7. Gods wordes decreed: I (Christ) wil sprede
for God thus sayd to me/e:
My sonne I say: thou art, this day,
I haue begotten the/e.

8. Aske thou of me/e: I will geue the/e,
to rule all Gentils londes:
Thou shalt possesse: in suernesse,
the world how wide it stondes.

9. With iron rod: as mighty God,
all rebels shalt thou bruse:
And breake them all: in pieces small,
as sherdes the potters vse.

10. Be wise therfore: ye kinges the more,
Receyue ye wisdomes lore:
Ye iudges strong: of right and wrong,
aduise you now before.

11. The Lorde in feare: your seruice beare,
with dread to him reioyce:
Let rages be: resist not ye,
him serue with ioyfull voyce.

12. The sonne kisse ye: lest wroth he be,
lose not the way of rest:
For when his ire: is set on fire,
who trust in hym be blest.

O come in one to praise the Lord
And him recount our stay and health.
All hearty joys let us record
To this strong rock, our Lord of health.
His face with praise let us prevent;
His facts in sight let us denounce.
Join we, I say, in glad assent.
Our psalms and hymns let us pronounce.

Even like the hunted hind
The waterbrooks desire,
E'en thus my soul, that fainting is,
To thee would fain aspire.
My soul did thirst to God,
to God of Life and Grace.
It said e'en thus: when shall I come
To see God's lively face?

Expend, O Lord, my plaint of word
In grief that I do make.
My musing mind recount most kind;
Give ear for thine own sake.
O hark my groan, my crying moan;
My King, my God thou art.
Let me not stray from thee away,
To thee I pray in heart.

Why brag'st in malice high,
O thou in mischief stout?
God’s goodness yet is nigh
All day to me no doubt.
Thy tongue to muse all evil
It doth itself inure.
As razor sharp to spill,
All guile it doth procure.

God grant we grace, he us embrace.
In gentle part bless he our heart.
With loving face shine he in place.
His mercies all on us to fall.
That we thy way may know all day,
While we do sail this world so frail.
Thy health’s reward is nigh declared,
As plain as eye all Gentiles spy.

Come Holy Ghost, eternal God,
Which dost from God proceed;
The Father first and eke the Son,
One God as we do read.