Psal. Lxxxi. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCBDBDBEFEFGHGHIJKJ LMLMLLLLNFNFLMLMOMPM QKKKCRARLKLKSSSSSSSS EKEKTKTK

To God our strength sing loud and clearA
Sing loud to God our KingB
To Jacobs God that all may hearC
Loud acclamations ringB
Prepare a Hymn prepare a SongD
The Timbrel hither bringB
The cheerfull Psaltry bring alongD
And Harp with pleasant stringB
Blow as is wont in the new MoonE
With Trumpets lofty soundF
Th'appointed time the day wheronE
Our solemn Feast comes roundF
This was a Statute giv'n of oldG
For Israel to observeH
A Law of Jacobs God to holdG
From whence they might not swerveH
This he a Testimony ordain'dI
In Joseph not to changeJ
When as he pass'd through Aegypt landK
The Tongue I heard was strangeJ
From burden and from slavish toyleL
I set his shoulder freeM
His hands from pots and mirie soyleL
Deliver'd were by meM
When trouble did thee sore assaileL
On me then didst thou callL
And I to free thee did not faileL
And led thee out of thrallL
I answer'd thee in thunder deepN
With clouds encompass'd roundF
I tri'd thee at the water steepN
Of Meriba renown'dF
Hear O my people heark'n wellL
I testifie to theeM
Thou antient flock of IsraelL
If thou wilt list to meeM
Through out the land of thy abodeO
No alien God shall beM
Nor shalt thou to a forein GodP
In honour bend thy kneeM
I am the Lord thy God which broughtQ
Thee out of Aegypt landK
Ask large enough and I besoughtK
Will grant thy full demandK
And yet my people would not hearC
Nor hearken to my voiceR
And Israel whom I lov'd so dearA
Mislik'd me for his choiceR
Then did I leave them to their willL
And to their wandring mindK
Their own conceits they follow'd stillL
Their own devises blindK
O that my people would be wiseS
To serve me all their daiesS
And O that Israel would adviseS
To walk my righteous waiesS
Then would I soon bring down their foesS
That now so proudly riseS
And turn my hand against all thoseS
That are their enemiesS
Who hate the Lord should then be fainE
To bow to him and bendK
But they His should remainE
Their time should have no endK
And he would free them from the shockT
With flower of finest wheatK
And satisfie them from the rockT
With Honey for their MeatK

John Milton



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