4 Make not increasing gold your truft,
Nor fet your hearts on glitt'ring dust;
Why will you grafp the fleeting smoke,
And not believe what God has spoke ?
5 Once has his awful voice declar'd,
Once and again my ears have heard,
"All pow'r, is his eternal due;
"He must be fear'd and trusted too."
6 For fov'reign pow'r reigns not alone,
Grace is a partner of the throne;
Thy grace and justice, mighty Lord!
Shall well divide our last reward.
PSALM LXIII. 1st Part. Com.Metre. Ver. 1, 2, 5, 3, 4. The morning of a Lord's-day. my God, without delay,
1 hafte to seek thy face;
My thirsty spirit faints away,
Without thy cheering grace.
2 So pilgrims on the scorching sand,
Beneath a burning sky,
Long for a cooling stream at hand,
And they must drink or die.
3 I've seen thy glory, and thy pow'r,
Through all thy temple shine;
My God, repeat that heav'nly hour,
That vision so divine!
4 Not all the blessings of a feaft
Can please my foul so well,
As when thy richer grace I taste,
And in thy prefence dwell.
5 Not life itself, with all its joys,
Can my best paffions move,
Or raise so high my cheerful voice,
As thy forgiving love.
6 Thus, till my last expiring day,
I'll bless my God and King;
Thus will I lift my hands to pray,
And tune my lips to fing.
PSALM LXIII. 2d Part. Com. Metre.
Midnight thoughts recollected.
1 WAS in the watches of the night, I thought upon thy pow'r;
I kept thy lovely face in fight
Amidst the darkest hour.
2 My flesh lay resting on my bed;
My foul arofe on high;
"My God, my life, my hope," I faid,
"Bring thy falvation nigh."
3 My spirit labours up thine hill,
And climbs the heav'nly road :
But thy right hand upholds me still,
While I pursue my God.
4 Thy mercy Aretches o'er my head
The shadow of thy wings;
My heart rejoices in thine aid;
My tongue awakes and fings.
5 But the destroyers of my peace
Shall fret and rage in vain;
The tempter shall for ever ceafe,
And all my fins be flain.
6 Thy fword shall give my foes to death, And fend them down to dwell
In the dark caverns of the earth,
Or to the depths of hell.
PSALM LXIII. Long Metre,
Longings after God; or, the love of God better than life.
GREAT God, indulge my humble claim;
Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest;
The glories that compose thy name
Stand all engag'd to make me blest.
2 Thou great and good, thou just and wife,
Thou art my Father and my God!
And I am thine by facred ties;
Thy fon, thy fervant, bought with blood.
3 With heart, and eyes, and lifted hands,
For thee I long, to thee I look;
As travellers, in thirsty lands,
Pant for the cooling water-brook.
4 With early feet I love t'appear
Among thy faints, and seek thy face;
Oft have I seen thy glory there,
And felt the pow'r of fov'reign grace.
5 Not fruits, nor wines that tempt our taste,
Nor all the joys our senses know,
Could make me so divinely blest,
Or raise my cheerful paffions fo.
6 My life itself, without thy love,
No taste of pleasure could afford;
'Twould but a tiresome burden prove,
If I were banish'd from the Lord.
7 Amidst the wakeful hours of night,
When busy cares afflict my head,
One thought of thee gives new delight,
And adds refreshment to my bed.
8 I'll lift my hands, I'll raise my voice, While I have breath to pray or praise; This work shall make my heart rejoice, And spend the remnant of my days.
PSALM LXIII. Short Metre.
Y God, permit my tongue
This joy, to call thee mine
And let my early cries prevail
To taste thy love divine.
My thirsty fainting foul
Thy mercy does implore; Not travellers, in defart lands,
Can pant for water more.
Within thy churches, Lord,
I long to find my place;
Thy pow'r and glory to behold,
And feel thy quick'ning grace,
For life without thy love
No relish can afford;
No joy can be compar'd with this,
To ferve and please the Lord.
To thee I lift my hands,
And praise thee while I live;
Not the rich dainties of a feast
Such food or pleasure give.
In wakeful hours of night,
I call my God to mind;
I think how wife thy counsels are,
And all thy dealings kind.
Since thou hast been my help,
To thee my spirit flies,
And on thy watchful providence
My cheerful hope relies.
8 The shadow of thy wings
My foul in fafety keeps:
I follow where my Father leads,
And he supports my steps.
PSALM LXV. 1st Part, Long Metre.
Public prayer and praise.
THE praife of Zion waits for thee, My God; and praise becomes thy houfe:. There shall thy faints thy glory fee, And there perform their public vows, 20 thou, whose mercy bends the skies To fave, when humble sinners pray; All lands to thee shall lift their eyes, And islands of the northern fea.
3 Against my will my fins prevail,
But grace shall purge away their stain;
The blood of Christ will never fail
To wash my garments white again,
4 Bleft is the man whom thou shalt choose,
And give him kind access to thee;
Give him a place within thy house,
To taste thy love divinely free,
5 Let Babel fear when Zion prays;
Babel, prepare for long diftrefs,
When Zion's God himself arrays
In terror, and in righteoufnefs.
6 With dreadful glory, God fulfils
What his afflicted saints request;
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