VI. Sir Philip Sidney and the Countess of Pembroke

Cum invocarem.

HEARE me, O heare me, when I call,

O God, God of my equity!

Thou sett’st me free when I was thrall:

Have mercy therefore still on me,

And hearken how I pray to thee.

O men, whose fathers were but men,

Till when will ye my honor high

Stain with your blasphemies? till when

Such pleasure take in vanity,

And only haunt where lies do lye?

Yet know this to, that God did take,

When he chose me, a godly one:

Such one, I say, that when I make

My crying plaintes to him alone,

He will give good eare to my moane.

O, tremble then with awfull will;

Sinne from all rule in you depose.

Talk with your harts, and yet be still;

And, when your chamber you do close,

Your selves yet to your selves disclose.

The sacrifices sacrifie

Of just desires on justice staid:

Trust in that Lord that cannot ly.

Indeed, full many folkes have said,

From whence shall come to us such aid?

But, Lord, lift thou upon our sight

The shining cleerenes of thy face;

Where I have found more hart’s delight,

Then they whose store in harvest’s space

Of grain and wine fills stoaring place.

So I in peace and peacefull blisse

Will lay mee downe and take my rest:

For it is thou, Lord, thou it is,

By pow’r of whose own onely brest

I dwell, laid up in safest neast.