The Hundred Fourth Psalm, by Henry Vaughan

for Tarot Vidente, since they liked the other one : )

Taken from Treasury of Prayer: Prayers of Hope and Faith

The poem “The Hundred Fourth Psalm” by Henry Vaughan . I think he did a really nice job:

Up, O my soul, and bless the Lord. O God,
My God, how great, how very great art Thou!
Honor and Majesty have their abode
With Thee and crown Thy brow.

Thou Clothest Thyself with light, as with a robe,
And the high, glorious heavens Thy mighty hand
Doth spread like curtains round about this globe
Of air and sea and land.

The beams of Thy bright chambers Thou dost lay
In the deep waters, which no eye can find;
The clouds Thy chariots are, and Thy pathway
The wings of the swift wind.

In Thy celestial, gladsome messages
Dispatched to holy souls sick with desire
And love of Thee, each willing angel is
Thy minister of fire.

Thy arm unmovable forever laid
And founded the firm earth; then with the deep
As with a veil Thou hidst it; Thy floods played
Above the mountains steep.

At Thy rebuke they fled; at the known voice
Of their Lord’s thunder they retired apace:
Some up the mountains passed by secret ways,
Some downwards to their place.

O Lord my God, how many and how rare
Are Thy great works! In wisdom hast Thou made
Them all, and this the earth and every blade
Of grass we tread, declare.

Thou sendest Thy spirit forth, and they revive;
The frozen earth’s dead face Thou dost renew.
Thus Thou Thy glory through the world dost drive
And to Thy works art true.

Thine eyes behold the earth, and the whole stage
Is moved and trembles; the hills melt and smoke
With Thy least touch; lightnings and winds that rage
At Thy rebuke are broke.

Therefore as long as Thou wilt give me breath
I will in songs to Thy great name employ
That gift of Thine, and to my day of death
Thou shalt be all my joy.

I’ll spice my thoughts with Thee, and from Thy word
Gather true comforts; but the wicked liver
Shall be consumed. O my soul, bless they Lord!
Yea, bless thou Him forever!

– Henry Vaughan