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2 Thou spread'st the curtain of the night,

Great Guardian of our sleeping hours ;
Thy sov'reign word restores the light,

And quickens all our drowsy pow'rs. 3 Lord, may we yield to thy command ;

To thee still consecrate our days;
Perpetual blessings from thine hand,
Demand perpetual songs of praise.

PSALM IV. (1. M.)

1 TO thee, my God, when troubles press,

My trembling soul for help shall fly:
Hope of thy saints in all distress,
In
mercy

hear
my
humble

cry.
2 Ye sons of men, from sin depart;

Before his presence stand in awe;
Commune in secret with your heart,

And learn, and keep, his righteous law. 3 Let others covet earthly store ;

Lord, fill our hearts with light and peace ; Those heav'nly gifts delight us more,

Than all their harvests' large increase. 4 Secure from harm, since thou art near,

Father, I lay me down to rest :
What should thy happy children fear,
With thy protecting presence blest ?

PSALM V. (c. M.)

1 LORD, in the morning thou shalt hear

My voice ascending high ;
To thee will I direct my prayer,
To thee lift

up
mine

eye. 2 Up to the hills, where Christ is gone,

To plead for all his saints,
Presenting at his Father's throne,

Our songs and our complaints.
3 Thou art a God, before whose sight

The wicked shall not stand :
Sinners shall ne'er be thy delight,

Nor dwell at thy right hand. 4 But to thy house will I resort,

To taste thy mercies there;
I will frequent thine holy court,

And worship in thy fear.
5 O may thy spirit guide my feet,

In ways of righteousness!
Make every path of duty straight,

And plain before my face.

PSALM VIII. (c. M.) 1 0 THOU, to whom all creatures bow,

Within this earthly frame, Through all the world how great art thou,

How glorious is thy name!

2 In heav'n thy wondrous acts are sung,

Nor fully reckon'd there;
And yet thou mak'st the infant tongue

Thy boundless praise declare. 3 When heav'n, thy beauteous work on high,

Employs my wond'ring sight;
The moon that nightly rules the sky,

With stars of feebler light; 4 What's man, say I, that, Lord, thou lov'st

To keep him in thy mind ?
Or what his offspring, that thou prov'st

To them so wondrous kind ?
5 O thou, to whom all creatures bow,

Within this earthly frame, Through all the world how great art thou,

How glorious is thy name !

PSALM IX. (c. M.)
1 TO celebrate thy praise, O Lord,

I will my heart prepare ;
To all the list’ning world thy works,

Thy wondrous works, declare.
2 The thought of them shall to my soul

Exalted pleasure bring;
Whilst to thy name, O thou Most High,

Triumphant praise I sing.

3 God is a constant sure defence

Against oppressing rage;
As troubles rise, his needful aids
In our behalf

engage. 4 All those who have his goodness prov'd,

Will in his truth confide; Whose mercy

ne'er forsook the man
That on his help relied.
5 Sing praises, therefore, to the Lord,

From Zion, his abode ;
Proclaim his deeds, till all the world

Confess no other God.

PSALM XIII. (c. M.)

1 HOW long, O Lord, shall I complain,

Like one who secks his God in vain ?
Wilt thou thy face for ever hide ?

Shall I still pray, and be denied ? 2 How would the powers of darkness boast,

If one poor suppliant were lost!
But I have trusted in thy grace,

And shall again behold thy face !
3 Whate'er my foes or fears suggest,

Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest ;
My heart shall own thy love, and raise
My cheerful voice in songs of praise.

PSALM XVI. (c.m.)
1 MY lot is fall'n in that blest land

Where God is truly known;
He fills my cup with lib’ral hand;

'Tis he supports my throne. 2 I strive each action to approve

To his all-seeing eye ;
No danger shall my hopes remove,

Because he still is nigh.
3 Therefore my heart all grief defies,

My glory does rejoice ;
My flesh shall rest in hope to rise,

Wak'd by his pow'rful voice. 4 Thou shalt the paths of life display,

That to thy presence lead;
Where pleasures dwell without allay,

And joys that never fade.

PSALM XVII. (L. M.) 1 WHAT sinners value I resign;

Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine; I shall behold thy blissful face,

And stand complete in righteousness. 2 This life's a dream, an empty show ;

But the bright world to which I go, Hath joys substantial and sincere ; When shall I wake, and find me there?

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