An Exposition of the Last Psalme

In Short

This book is a published sermon delivered at Paul’s Cross in 1613, offering a verse-by-verse commentary on Psalm 150. Beyond mere exegesis, the author uses the text to defend the Church of England’s liturgical calendar and to denounce the perceived religious and political threats posed by Roman Catholic conspirators. It is a dense, learned work that reflects the seventeenth-century practice of mining the scriptures for both spiritual guidance and national identity, remaining a vital primary source for those studying the intersection of theology, politics, and historical memory in the Stuart period.

The Story

The narrative arc begins with a foundational premise: all of King David’s Psalms can be summarized by two words, Hallelujah and Hosanna. With this, the author establishes the dual purpose of the text—praising God for mercies received and praying to God for the avoidance of future miseries. He posits that Psalm 150, as the conclusion to the entire collection, acts as a comprehensive invitation to universal praise.

The argument unfolds through an "anatomy" of the Psalm’s verses, which the author categorizes into two main sections: for what God is to be magnified—His holiness, His power, and His noble acts—and with what instruments, both external and internal, he should be praised. The author moves through the text with scholastic precision, defining God’s "sanctuary" as both the heavenly realm and the hearts of the faithful, thereby arguing for the necessity of a structured, holy life.

However, the sermon quickly shifts from abstract theology to concrete historical application. The author uses the term "holiness" and the concept of "saints" to launch an impassioned defense of the Church of England’s holy days. He argues that by observing these festivals, the church does not worship saints as idols, but rather honors God, who makes saints out of mere men. This leads directly into his sharpest point of contention: a blistering critique of the "Gunpowder men." He contrasts the true, scriptural definition of sainthood with the Roman Catholic practice of canonizing political agitators and rebels, specifically naming individuals involved in the Gunpowder Plot as false martyrs and "mancipes diaboli"—servants of the devil.

The argument culminates in a detailed recollection of England’s deliverance from the 1605 plot. The author frames this salvation not as a matter of chance, but as one of God's "noble acts," similar to the miraculous interventions described in the Old Testament. He asserts that the nation owes a debt of perpetual praise for this survival. Throughout this section, he displays a palpable frustration with the contemporary state of affairs, pointing out that while the public finds money for vanity, playhouses, and decorative statues, they fail to adequately fund the intellectual defense of the faith.

The discourse concludes by returning to the final verse of the Psalm: "Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord." Here, the author synthesizes his points, arguing that the true Israelite is defined not by ethnicity or outward ceremony, but by the spirit and faith. He calls for a comprehensive, inward devotion that transforms the individual into a living instrument of praise, effectively bridging the gap between the ancient Hebrew text and the urgent, political realities of 17th-century England.

How It Unfolds

The opening invitation The author introduces Psalm 150 as the summary of the entire book of Psalms, establishing a framework of praise that encompasses all human experience. He immediately sets the stage for a dual focus: God’s inherent nature and the specific acts of mercy He performs for His people.

Defining the sanctuary The commentary explores the various readings of "holiness" and "sanctuary," arguing that God dwells in both the heavens and the sanctified hearts of men. This beat serves to justify the Church’s existence and its role in fostering holiness within the community.

The defense of holy days The sermon shifts to a polemical defense of the Church of England’s calendar, distinguishing between superstitious observances and legitimate, legal commemoration. The author carefully navigates the tension between honoring the memory of the saints and avoiding the idolatry of worshiping them.

The critique of the gunpowder plot The author turns his full attention to the conspirators of 1605, characterizing their actions as a betrayal of both God and King. By contrasting the "true saints" of the Bible with the "saintlings" of his adversaries, he frames the political survival of the English state as a spiritual mandate.

The final call to devotion The conclusion demands that praise be active, inward, and universal. The author argues that true worship requires the total engagement of the heart and mind, urging the reader to move beyond empty rituals toward a life of profound, informed faith.

The People

The author, an English divine and Doctor of Divinity, acts as the primary voice throughout the text. He is intellectually combative, deeply read in both the Church Fathers and his contemporaries, and fiercely loyal to the established order of the Church of England. He wants his audience to understand the Bible as a living political manual and an instrument for defining the boundaries between loyal subjects and "traitorous" conspirators.

King David serves as the central scriptural model, providing the template for the author’s own approach to praise. David is the prototype of the faithful leader who recognizes both the majesty of God and the necessity of national protection.

The "Gunpowder men" and their supporters, particularly those he labels as "Ignatian" or Romanist, serve as the primary antagonists. The author treats them not merely as theological rivals, but as a direct threat to the soul of the nation. Figures like Henry Garnet are singled out for specific condemnation, depicted as the antithesis of the godly man.

Finally, the "true Christian" or "zealous Protestant" is the intended ideal. This figure is the one who understands that holiness requires a disciplined life and that the nation's survival is a gift from God. This person is encouraged to look past the "beggarly rudiments" of traditionalist practices to focus on the spirit of the Gospel, ending the work as an active participant in the praise of the Creator.

In Its Own Voice

"For if he must be praised in all his creatures, how much more in his new creatures?"

The author justifies the veneration of the saints by arguing that the grace bestowed upon holy men makes them a greater testament to God’s power than the natural world.

"If thou desire to doe right vnto the Saints, esteeme them as paternes, and not as patrones of thy life; honour them only so farre, that thou maist alway praise God in them, and praise them in God."

He clarifies the theological position of the Church of England, strictly demarcating the line between honoring historical figures and idolatrously seeking their intercession.

"Let trumpet and tongue, viol & voice, lute & life, witnes our hartie reioycing in the Lord."

The author concludes his instruction on the instruments of praise by insisting that a person's life must be as resonant and intentional as the music used in the temple.

What It's Really About

This book is fundamentally an argument for the alignment of national identity with religious orthodoxy. The author is preoccupied with the question of how a community should express its gratitude for survival in a dangerous, shifting world. Beneath the commentary on Psalm 150 lies the deeper question of authority: who has the right to define "holiness," and how does one distinguish between legitimate celebration and dangerous superstition? It is a study in how religious texts are weaponized to serve the needs of a state, arguing that true worship is not merely a private, inward experience but a public, civic duty that necessitates the rejection of those deemed enemies to both the faith and the sovereign.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of the Church of England or the development of seventeenth-century English prose will find this work rewarding, though it requires patience with its dense, academic structure. The language is rich and period-specific, often utilizing complex sentence structures and a wealth of Latinate references that reflect the author’s background as a doctor of divinity.

You will encounter a voice that is unapologetically partisan and occasionally abrasive, particularly in its treatment of Roman Catholicism and the Gunpowder Plot. This is not a balanced, dispassionate commentary; it is a sermon written in the heat of political and sectarian conflict. For a modern reader, the value lies in the raw, authentic look at how religious rhetoric functioned as a primary tool for constructing national unity and casting out "the other."

While the length and the archaic, polemical tone present genuine hurdles, the text offers a fascinating window into a time when the Bible was the battleground upon which the survival of the state was debated. The author’s wit—often biting and sharp—makes the prose feel surprisingly alive, revealing a man who is as comfortable with a scriptural nuance as he is with a cutting political insult. Those who persist through the difficult, scholarly passages will be rewarded with a clearer understanding of the intellectual and spiritual pressures that helped shape the English consciousness in the early 1600s.