LITMIR.BIZ

        Sion it is where thou art praiséd,

          Sion, O God, where vows they pay thee:

        There all men's prayers to thee raiséd,

          Return possessed of what they pray thee.

        There thou my sins, prevailing to my shame,

        Dost turn to smoke of sacrificing flame.

        Oh! he of bliss is not deceivéd, disappointed.

          Whom chosen thou unto thee takest;

        And whom into thy court receivéd,

          Thou of thy checkrole65 number makest:

        The dainty viands of thy sacred store

        Shall feed him so he shall not hunger more.

        From thence it is thy threat'ning thunder—

          Lest we by wrong should be disgracéd—

        Doth strike our foes with fear and wonder,

          O thou on whom their hopes are placéd,

        Whom either earth doth stedfastly sustain,

        Or cradle rocks the restless wavy plain.

        Thy virtue stays the mighty mountains, power.

          Girded with power, with strength abounding.

        The roaring dam of watery fountains the "dam of fountains"

          Thy beck doth make surcease her sounding. [is the ocean.

        When stormy uproars toss the people's brain,

        That civil sea to calm thou bring'st again. political, as opposed

                                                                    [to natural.

        Where earth doth end with endless ending,

          All such as dwell, thy signs affright them;

        And in thy praise their voices spending,

          Both houses of the sun delight them–

        Both whence he comes, when early he awakes,

        And where he goes, when evening rest he takes.

        Thy eye from heaven this land beholdeth,

          Such fruitful dews down on it raining,

        That storehouse-like her lap enfoldeth

          Assuréd hope of ploughman's gaining:

        Thy flowing streams her drought doth temper so,

        That buried seed through yielding grave doth grow.

        Drunk is each ridge of thy cup drinking;

          Each clod relenteth at thy dressing; groweth soft.

        Thy cloud-borne waters inly sinking,

          Fair spring sprouts forth, blest with thy blessing.

        The fertile year is with thy bounty crowned;

        And where thou go'st, thy goings fat the ground.

        Plenty bedews the desert places;

          A hedge of mirth the hills encloseth;

        The fields with flocks have hid their faces;

          A robe of corn the valleys clotheth.

        Deserts, and hills, and fields, and valleys all,

        Rejoice, shout, sing, and on thy name do call.