Thy dreadful wrath exceeds our thoughts, And burns beyond our fear. 2 Thine anger turns our frame to duft: Adam, with all his fons, have lost 3 Life, like a vain amusement, flies, By fwift degrees our nature dies, 4 'Tis but a few whofe days amount s [Our vitals, with laborious Atrife, And drag thofe poor remains of life. 6 Almighty God, reveal thy love, 7 Our fouls would learn the heav'nly art PSALM XC. 3d Part. Com. Metre. RETURN, O God of love, return; Earth is a tiresome place; How long fhall we thy children mourn Our abfence from thy face? 2 Let Heav'n fucceed our painful years, 3 Thy wonders to thy fervants fhow, 4 Then fhall we fhine before thy throne In all thy beauty, Lord; I And the poor fervice we have done PSALM XC. Short Metre. Ver. 5, 10, 12. The frailty and fhortness of life. ORD, what a feeble piece Our life, how poor a trifle 'tis, 2 Alas! the brittle clay 3 4 That built our body first! 'Tis mould'ring back to duft. Our moments fly apace. Well, if our days must fly, We'll keep their end in fight; We'll spend them all in wifdom's way, 5 They'll waft us fooner o'er Soon we fhall reach the peaceful fhore PSALM XCI. ver. 1-7. Long Metre. H I E that hath made his refuge, God, Shall find a moft fecure abode ; Shall walk all day beneath his shade, And there at night shall reft his head. 2 Then will I fay, "My God, thy pow'r "Shall be my fortrefs and my tow'r "I, that am form'd of feeble duft, "Make thine almighty arm my trust.' 3 Thrice happy man! thy Maker's care Shall keep thee from the fowler's fnare Satan, the fowler, who betrays Unguarded fouls a thousand ways. 4 Juft as a hen protects her brood (From birds of prey that feek their blood) Under her feathers, fo the Lord Makes his own arm his people's guard. 5 If burning beams of noon confpire To dart a peftilential fire, God is their life, his wings are spread To fhield them with a healthful thade. 6 If vapours, with malignant breath, 1 Rife thick, and fcatter midnight death, Ifrael is fafe: The poifon'd air Grows pure, if Ifrael's God be there. PAUSE. 7 What though a thoufand at thy fide, At thy right hand ten thousand dy'd? Thy God his chofen people faves, 9 But if the fire, or plague, or fword, PSALM XCI. 9-16. Com. Metre. Protection from death, guard of angels, victory and deliverance. E fons of men, a feeble race, Y Expos'd to ev'ry fnare, Come, make the Lord your dwelling place, 2 No ill fhall enter where you dwell } 3 He'll give his angels charge to keep To watch your pillow while you sleep, 4 Their hands fhall bear you, left you fall And dafh against the stones; Are they not fervants at his call, 6" Because on me they fet their love,. 7 "My grace fhall answer when they call "In trouble I'll be nigh; "My pow'r fhall help them when they fall, "And raise them when they die. 8 "Those that on earth my name have known "I'll honour them in heav'n : "There my falvation fhall be shown, "And endless life be giv'n." PSALM XCII. ft Part. Long Metre. S A Pfalm for the Lord'seday. WEET is the work, my God, my King, To praise thy name, give thanks and fing, To fhew thy love by morning-light, And talk of all thy truth at night. 2 Sweet is the day of facred rest, No mortal care fhall feize my breast; O may my heart in tune be found, Like David's harp of folemn found! 3 My heart fhall triumph in my Lord, And blefs his works, and bless his word: Thy works of grace, how bright they fhine! How deep thy councils! how divine! |