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5 But twice that praise shall in our ear Be said of Zion last:

This and this man was born in her;

High God shall fix her fast.

6 The Lord shall write it in a scroll,
That ne'er shall be out-worn,
When He the nations doth enroll,
That this man there was born.

7 Both they who sing and they who dance
With sacred songs are there;

In thee fresh brooks and soft streams glance,
And all my fountains clear.

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PSALM LXXXVIII.

I LORD GOD, that dost me save and keep,
All day to Thee I cry,

And all night long before Thee weep,
Before Thee prostrate lie.

2 Into Thy presence let my prayer,
With sighs devout, ascend;

And to my cries, that ceaseless are,
Thine ear with favour bend.

3 For, cloyed with woes and trouble store,
Surcharged my soul doth lie;

My life, at death's uncheerful door,
Unto the grave draws nigh.

4 Reckoned I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit;

I am a man but weak, alas!
And for that name unfit,

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5 From life discharged and parted quite
Among the dead to sleep,

And like the slain in bloody fight
That in the grave lie deep;

Whom Thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard :

Them, from Thy hand delivered o'er,
Death's hideous house hath barred.

6 Thou in the lowest pit profound,
Hast set me all forlorn,

Where thickest darkness hovers round,
In horrid deeps to mourn.

7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves,
Full sore doth press on me;

Thou break'st upon me all thy waves,
And all Thy waves break me.

8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange,

And mak'st me odious,

Me to them odious, for they change,
And I here pent up thus.

9 Through sorrow and affliction great
Mire eye grows dim and dead;
Lord, all the day I Thee entreat,
My hands to Thee I spread.

10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead?

Shall the deceased arise

And praise Thee from their loathsome bed

With pale and hollow eyes?

II Shall they Thy loving-kindness tell

On whom the grave hath hold?

Or they who in perdition dwell
Thy faithfulness unfold?

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12 In darkness can Thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known?
Thy justice in the gloomy land

Of dark oblivion?

13 But I to Thee, O Lord, do cry
Ere yet my life be spent;

And up to Thee my prayer doth hie
Each morn, and Thee prevent.

14 Why wilt Thou, Lord, my soul forsake
And hide Thy face from me,

15 That am already bruised, and shake
With terror sent from Thee;

Bruised and afflicted, and so low
As ready to expire,

While I Thy terrors undergo,
Astonished with Thine ire?

16 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow;
Thy threatenings cut me through:
17 All day they round about me go;
Like waves they me pursue.

18 Lover and friend Thou hast removed,
And severed from me far:

They fly me now whom I have loved,
And as in darkness are.

A PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXIV.

This and the following Psalm are Milton's earliest productions. He was only fifteen years old when he translated them.

WHEN the blessed seed of Terah's faithful son

After long toil their liberty had won,

And passed from Pharian fields to Canaan land,

Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand,

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Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown,
His praise and glory was in Israel known.
That saw the troubled sea, and shivering fled,
And sought to hide his froth-becurled head
Low in the earth; Jordan's clear streams recoil,
As a faint host that hath received the foil.

The high huge-bellied mountains skip, like rams
Amongst their ewes, the little hills like lambs.

Why fled the ocean? and why skipped the mountains?
Why turned Jordan toward his crystal fountains?
Shake, earth! and at the presence be aghast

Of Him that ever was and aye shall last,

That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush,
And make soft rills from fiery flint-stones gush.

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The floods stood still, like walls of glass,

While the Hebrew bands did pass ;

For His, etc.

But full soon they did devour

The tawny king with all his power;
For His, etc.

His chosen people He did bless
In the wasteful wilderness;

For His, etc.

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