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7 Both they who sing and they who dance
With sacred songs are there;
And all my fountains clear.
I LORD GOD, that dost me save and keep,
All day to Thee I cry,
Before Thee prostrate lie.
2 Into Thy presence let my prayer,
With sighs devout, ascend;
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;
And for that name unfit,
5 From life discharged and parted quite
Among the dead to sleep,
That in the grave lie deep;
Whom Thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard :
Death's hideous house hath barred.
6 Thou in the lowest pit profound,
Hast set me all forlorn,
In horrid deeps to mourn.
7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves,
Full sore doth press on me;
And all Thy waves break me.
And mak'st me odious,
And I here pent up thus.
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
With pale and hollow eyes?
11 Shall they Thy loving-kindness tell
On whom the grave hath hold?
Thy faithfulness unfold?
12 In darkness can Thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known?
Of dark oblivion ?
13 But I to Thee, O Lord, do cry
Ere yet my life be spent;
Each morn, and Thee prevent.
14 Why wilt Thou, Lord, my soul forsake
And hide Thy face from me,
With terror sent from Thee;
Bruised and afflicted, and so low
As ready to expire,
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:
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.
Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown,