Sir Philip and his sister Mary, Countess of Pembroke, made between them a metrical translation of the Psalms of David.  It cannot be determined which are hers and which are his; but if I may conclude anything from a poem by the sister, to which I shall by and by refer, I take those I now give for the brother’s work.

The souls of the following psalms have, in the version I present, transmigrated into fairer forms than I have found them occupy elsewhere.  Here is a grand hymn for the whole world:  Sing unto the Lord.

  PSALM XCVI.

  Sing, and let your song be new,
    Unto him that never endeth;
  Sing all earth, and all in you—­
  Sing to God, and bless his name. 
    Of the help, the health he sendeth,
  Day by day new ditties frame.

  Make each country know his worth: 
    Of his acts the wondered story
  Paint unto each people forth. 
  For Jehovah great alone,
    All the gods, for awe and glory,
  Far above doth hold his throne.

  For but idols, what are they
    Whom besides mad earth adoreth? 
  He the skies in frame did lay. 
  Grace and honour are his guides;
    Majesty his temple storeth;
  Might in guard about him bides.

  Kindreds come!  Jehovah give—­
    O give Jehovah all together,
  Force and fame whereso you live. 
  Give his name the glory fit: 
    Take your off’rings, get you thither,
  Where he doth enshrined sit.

  Go, adore him in the place
    Where his pomp is most displayed. 
  Earth, O go with quaking pace,
  Go proclaim Jehovah king: 
    Stayless world shall now be stayed;
  Righteous doom his rule shall bring.

  Starry roof and earthy floor,
    Sea, and all thy wideness yieldeth,
  Now rejoice, and leap, and roar. 
  Leafy infants of the wood,
    Fields, and all that on you feedeth,
  Dance, O dance, at such a good!

  For Jehovah cometh, lo! 
    Lo to reign Jehovah cometh! 
  Under whom you all shall go. 
  He the world shall rightly guide—­
    Truly, as a king becometh,
  For the people’s weal provide.

Attempting to give an ascending scale of excellence—­I do not mean in subject but in execution—­I now turn to the national hymn, God is our Refuge.

  PSALM XLIV.

  God gives us strength, and keeps us sound—­
    A present help when dangers call;
  Then fear not we, let quake the ground,
    And into seas let mountains fall;
    Yea so let seas withal
  In watery hills arise,
    As may the earthly hills appal
  With dread and dashing cries.

  For lo, a river, streaming joy,
    With purling murmur safely slides,
  That city washing from annoy,
    In holy shrine where God resides. 
    God in her centre bides: 
  What can this city shake? 
    God early aids and ever guides: 
  Who can this city take?