Verse > Anthologies > Edward Farr, comp. > Elizabethan Poetry
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Edward Farr, ed.  Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth.  1845.
 
Hymne
V. Barnaby Barnes
 
To the glorious honour of the most blessed and indivisible Trinitie.

SACRED, deare Father of all things created!
  Whose joyfull throne of endlesse triumph stands
In glorious Heaven; whose name Earth animated
  Proclaymeth through the compasse of all landes;
    I lift these humble handes,        5
Upheavde with courage of a zealous harte,
  Confirmde with fortitude of constant fayth,
Assur’d in grace of some sweete mercies parte;
  Which treasures my deare hope in high heaven layth,
    Which comforte my soule hath.        10
And Thou, deare only Sonne of God alone!
  Thou precious immolacion of mankinde!
Who sits on right hande of thy Father’s throne,
  Who fearful Sathan did in fetters binde;
    Whom Death alone did finde        15
To be the peerlesse champion of his foyle;
  Thou, that redeemedst from infernall payne
Our great grandfathers, and ourselves assoyle
  Of our foul sinnes; nor humbled, didst disdayne
    For mankinde to be slayne.        20
And lastly Thou, sweete comfortable Spirite
  Of meekenesse, holinesse, and spotlesse love!
By whose dear incense (not our vayne demerite)
  We purchase heritage in heaven above:
    Thou, that in form of Dove        25
  Thy sanctified Apostles didst salute;
  Spirite of Truth, which doth our comforte bring;
Without whose heavenly motions men are mute;
  By whose power in the virgine’s womb did spring
    Our Comforter and King!        30
And Thou, deare sacred Father! of like power,
  With thy most deare Sonne, sacrifice for sinne;
And Thou, sweete Holy Ghost, who didst downe shower
  Cloven tongues of fire, true glorie for to winne;
    All which three Powers cloase in        35
One sacred and indivisible God!
  Vouchsafe, Oh! you perpetuall Highest Powers,
Of equal vertues, yet in number odde,
  These simple fruites of my repentant howers;
    And with your grace’s showers        40
  The temper of my feeble wittes renewe,
  To prosper, cherish’d with celestiall dewe.
 
 
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