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English cookbook, 1700
Page 5
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In pompous Courts before the glittering throne, Thee and thy laws, great King of Kings I'le owne False joys will revell there, ev'n there I'le slight, Fair vertue still my choise & my delight, To that my best endeavours still shall tend, To that my thoughts, to that shall all my actions bend. 7 49 Think on thy promise, nor forgett tho' past, My hope, tho' against hope, while life shall last, My Comfort this, all Comfort el's giv'n or'e, Thy word which gave at first can life restore, Still let th' insulting Foe my hopes deride, While still thy Laws my thoughts & actions guide, In ages past thy works to mind I call, And find 'em justice, find 'em Comfort all, Horrour or'ewhelms my soul when I regard, The black destruction by th' unjust prepar'd, But soon it's calm'd again, nor lasts it long, Where e're I wander Calm'd with Sacred Song, Thy statutes claim my lyre & claim my brest, They and thy name, still charm my cares to rest, That have I sung, till ev'nings doubtfull light, With that has oft outworn the tedious night, Whilst others slept unenvied, slept for me, Nor dreamt of joys I found in thy dear laws & thee. 8 57 Thou art my portion, rich in thee alone, Tho' nothing else, that I can call mine own, Thy word a Gem from which I'le never part, Dear as the vitall blood, that warms the heart,
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In pompous Courts before the glittering throne, Thee and thy laws, great King of Kings I'le owne False joys will revell there, ev'n there I'le slight, Fair vertue still my choise & my delight, To that my best endeavours still shall tend, To that my thoughts, to that shall all my actions bend. 7 49 Think on thy promise, nor forgett tho' past, My hope, tho' against hope, while life shall last, My Comfort this, all Comfort el's giv'n or'e, Thy word which gave at first can life restore, Still let th' insulting Foe my hopes deride, While still thy Laws my thoughts & actions guide, In ages past thy works to mind I call, And find 'em justice, find 'em Comfort all, Horrour or'ewhelms my soul when I regard, The black destruction by th' unjust prepar'd, But soon it's calm'd again, nor lasts it long, Where e're I wander Calm'd with Sacred Song, Thy statutes claim my lyre & claim my brest, They and thy name, still charm my cares to rest, That have I sung, till ev'nings doubtfull light, With that has oft outworn the tedious night, Whilst others slept unenvied, slept for me, Nor dreamt of joys I found in thy dear laws & thee. 8 57 Thou art my portion, rich in thee alone, Tho' nothing else, that I can call mine own, Thy word a Gem from which I'le never part, Dear as the vitall blood, that warms the heart,
Szathmary Culinary Manuscripts and Cookbooks
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