Calhovn's Miscellanie Vol 1 | Page 55

Violet

46

Loe, loe, the wretched wight

who god disdaining,

his mischief made his might,

his guard his gaining

I as an Olive tree,

still green shall flourish:

Gods house the soil shall be

my roots to nourish.

My trust on his true love

truly attending

shall never thence remove,

never see ending

Thee will I honor still

lord for this justice:

There fix my hopes I will

where they sancta trust is

Thy sancta trust in they name,

therein they joy them:

protected by the same

nought can anoy them.