But that thou art my wisdome, Lord,
And both mine eyes are thine,
My minde would be extreamly stirr'
For missing my designe.
Were it not better to bestow
Some place and power on me?
Then should thy praises with me grow,
And share in my degree.
But when I thus dispute and grieve,
I do resume my sight;
And pilfring what I once did give,
Disseize thee of thy right.
How know I, if thou shouldst me raise,
That I should then raise thee?
Perhaps great places and thy praise
Do not so well agree.
Wherefore unto my gift I stand;
I will no more advise:
Onely do thou lend me a hand,
Since thou hast doth mine eyes.
