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PSALMI. Done into verfe, 1653.

Lefs'd is the man who hath not walk'd aftray In counsel of the wicked, and i' th' of finners hath not stood, and in the feat

great

way

Of fcorners hath not fat. But in the
Jehovah's law is ever his delight,
And in his law he ftudies day and night.
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watry Areams, and in his feason knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall,
And what he takes in hand shall profper all.
Not fo the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, fo the wicked shall not ftand
In judgment, or abide their trial then,
Nor finners in th' affembly of just men.
For the Lord knows th' upright way of the just,
And the way of bad men to ruin must.

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PSAL. II. Done Aug. 8. 1653. Terzette. HY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations Mufe a vain thing, the kings of th'earth upftand With pow'r, and princes in their congregations Lay deep their plots together through each land Against

Against the Lord and his Meffiah dear?

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Let us break off, fay they, by ftrength of hand Their bonds, and caft from us, no more to wear, Their twifted cords: He who in Heav'n doth dwell

Shall laugh, the Lord shall scoff them, then severe Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell

And fierce ire trouble them; but I, faith he, Anointed have my King (though ye rebel) On Sion my holy' hill. A firm decree

I will declare; the Lord to me hath faid Thou art my Son, I have begotten thee This day; afk of me, and the grant is made; As thy poffeffion I on thee beftow

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Th' Heathen, and as thy conqueft to be fway'd Earth's utmost bounds: them fhalt thou bring full

low

With iron scepter bruis'd, and them difperfe 20
Like to a potter's veffel fhiver'd fo.

And now be wife at length ye Kings averse,
Be taught ye Judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah ferve, and let your joy converse
With trembling; kiss the Son left he

appear

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In anger and ye perish in the way,

If once his wrath take fire like fuel fere. Happy all those who have in him their stay.

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PSA L. III. Aug. 9. 1653.

When he fled from Abfalom.

ORD how many are my foes!
How many thofe

That in arms against me rise!
Many are they

That of my life diftruftfully thus fay,
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou Lord art my shield, my glory,

· Thee through my story

Th' exalter of my head I count;:

Aloud I cry'd

Unto Jehovah, he full foon reply'd
And heard me from his holy mount.
I lay and flept, I wak'd again,
For my sustain

Was the Lord. Of many millions

The populous rout

I fear not, though incamping round about

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15

They

They pitch against me their pavilions.

Rife, Lord, fave me my God, for thou

Haft fmote ere now

On the cheek-bone all my foes,

Of men abhorr'd

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Haft broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord; Thy bleffing on thy people flows.

PSAL. IV. Aug. 10. 1653.

Nfwer me when I call,

God of my righteousness,

In ftraits and in distress

Thou didft me difinthrall

And fet at large; now spare,

Now pity me, and hear my earnest pray'r.

Great ones how long will ye

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My glory have in scorn,

How long be thus forborn

Still to love vanity,

To love, to feek, to prize

Things false and vain, and nothing else but lies?

Yet know the Lord hath chofe,

Chose to himself apart,

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The good and meek of heart

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(For whom to choose he knows)

Jehovah from on high

Will hear my voice what time to him I cry.

Be aw'd, and do not fin,

Speak to your hearts alone,
Upon your beds, each one,
And be at peace within.

Offer the offerings just

Of righteousness, and in Jehovah trust,

Many there be that fay

Who yet will show us good?

Talking like this world's brood;

But, Lord, thus let me pray,

On us lift up the light

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