THE ROYAL COURT
InRoyal Courts my Soul hath slept,On royal meats I’ve fed;Royal favour sheltered me,My Soul was wellnigh dead.The royal eye’s now turned away,And scorn and dearth are mine;False-hearted friends are fled afar,My Soul awakes to pine.“Oh! where, my Soul, seek refuge now,While mocking foes pursue?Oh! whither shall I flee away,Thou Soul so full of rue?”“Turn, turn unto this greenwood shade,And rest beneath His Tree,With little birds on every boughTo sing His peace to thee.“A loyal King doth here abide,Here is his Royal Court;His carpet green’s enamelled brightWith flowers of every sort.“His subjects, all the wildwood things,He feedeth from His hand;His messengers are birds and winds,His will they understand.“His table is bedecked with moss;His almoners are bees,The berry-vine, the leaping stream,And all the fruitful trees.“Here shalt thou find a Royal CourtWhere flatt’ry holds no sway;And gentle is the royal eye,Here friendship comes to stay.“Turn, turn unto the sweet greenwood,O happy One! and singPraise with the birds and all good life,To Christ who is our King!”
InRoyal Courts my Soul hath slept,On royal meats I’ve fed;Royal favour sheltered me,My Soul was wellnigh dead.The royal eye’s now turned away,And scorn and dearth are mine;False-hearted friends are fled afar,My Soul awakes to pine.“Oh! where, my Soul, seek refuge now,While mocking foes pursue?Oh! whither shall I flee away,Thou Soul so full of rue?”“Turn, turn unto this greenwood shade,And rest beneath His Tree,With little birds on every boughTo sing His peace to thee.“A loyal King doth here abide,Here is his Royal Court;His carpet green’s enamelled brightWith flowers of every sort.“His subjects, all the wildwood things,He feedeth from His hand;His messengers are birds and winds,His will they understand.“His table is bedecked with moss;His almoners are bees,The berry-vine, the leaping stream,And all the fruitful trees.“Here shalt thou find a Royal CourtWhere flatt’ry holds no sway;And gentle is the royal eye,Here friendship comes to stay.“Turn, turn unto the sweet greenwood,O happy One! and singPraise with the birds and all good life,To Christ who is our King!”
InRoyal Courts my Soul hath slept,On royal meats I’ve fed;Royal favour sheltered me,My Soul was wellnigh dead.
InRoyal Courts my Soul hath slept,
On royal meats I’ve fed;
Royal favour sheltered me,
My Soul was wellnigh dead.
The royal eye’s now turned away,And scorn and dearth are mine;False-hearted friends are fled afar,My Soul awakes to pine.
The royal eye’s now turned away,
And scorn and dearth are mine;
False-hearted friends are fled afar,
My Soul awakes to pine.
“Oh! where, my Soul, seek refuge now,While mocking foes pursue?Oh! whither shall I flee away,Thou Soul so full of rue?”
“Oh! where, my Soul, seek refuge now,
While mocking foes pursue?
Oh! whither shall I flee away,
Thou Soul so full of rue?”
“Turn, turn unto this greenwood shade,And rest beneath His Tree,With little birds on every boughTo sing His peace to thee.
“Turn, turn unto this greenwood shade,
And rest beneath His Tree,
With little birds on every bough
To sing His peace to thee.
“A loyal King doth here abide,Here is his Royal Court;His carpet green’s enamelled brightWith flowers of every sort.
“A loyal King doth here abide,
Here is his Royal Court;
His carpet green’s enamelled bright
With flowers of every sort.
“His subjects, all the wildwood things,He feedeth from His hand;His messengers are birds and winds,His will they understand.
“His subjects, all the wildwood things,
He feedeth from His hand;
His messengers are birds and winds,
His will they understand.
“His table is bedecked with moss;His almoners are bees,The berry-vine, the leaping stream,And all the fruitful trees.
“His table is bedecked with moss;
His almoners are bees,
The berry-vine, the leaping stream,
And all the fruitful trees.
“Here shalt thou find a Royal CourtWhere flatt’ry holds no sway;And gentle is the royal eye,Here friendship comes to stay.
“Here shalt thou find a Royal Court
Where flatt’ry holds no sway;
And gentle is the royal eye,
Here friendship comes to stay.
“Turn, turn unto the sweet greenwood,O happy One! and singPraise with the birds and all good life,To Christ who is our King!”
“Turn, turn unto the sweet greenwood,
O happy One! and sing
Praise with the birds and all good life,
To Christ who is our King!”
Modern, anon.