• 2 Tir'd with the burdens of the day,
To thee I rais'd an ev'ning cry:
Thou heardst when I began to pray,
And thine Almighty help was nigh.
-3 Supported by thy heav'nly aid,
I laid me down, and slept secure ;
Not death should make my heart afraid,
Though I should wake and rise no more.
o 4 But God sustain'd me all the night:
Salvation doth to God belong:

He rais'd my head to see the light,
And make his praise my morning song.

PSALM 4. L. M. Green's. Islington. [b] Ver. 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7.-God our portion, and Christ our Hope.

GOD of grace and righteousness,
Hear and attend, when I complain;

Thou hast enlarged me in distress,
Bow down a gracious ear again.
2 Ye sons of men, in vain ye try,
To turn my glory into shame ;
e How long will scoffers love to lie,

And dare reproach my Saviour's name? d 3 Know that the Lord divides his saints From all the tribes of men beside:

e He hears the cry of penitents,

For the dear sake of Christ who died. -4 When our obedient hands have done A thousand works of righteousness, • We put our trust in God alone,

And glory in his pard'ning grace. -5 Let the unthinking many say,

e "Who will bestow some earthly good?" -But, Lord, thy light and love we pray; Our souls desire this heav'nly food.

s 6 Then shall my cheerful pow'rs rejoice,
At grace and favours so divine;

Nor will I change my happy choice,
For all their corn, and all their wine.
C. M. Barby. York. [*]

Ver. 3, 4, 5, 8.-An Evening Psalm.
ORD, thou wilt hear me when I pray;
I am forever thine;

1L

`I fear before thee all the day,
Nor would I dare to sin.

e 2 And while I rest my weary head,
From cares and business free,
'Tis sweet conversing on my bed,
With my own heart and thee.
-3 I pay this ev'ning sacrifice:
And when my work is done,
Great God, my faith, my hope relies
Upon thy grace alone.

4 Thus with my thoughts compos'd to peace,
I'll give mine eyes to sleep;
Thy hand in safety keeps my days,

And will my slumbers keep.

PSALM 5. C. M. Reading. Sunday. [b]
For the Lord's Day Morning.

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.

e 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.

o 4 But to thy house will I resort,
To taste thy mercies there;
I will frequent thy holy court,
And worship in thy fear.

-50 may thy Spirit guide my feet,
In ways of righteousness;
Make ev'ry path of duty straight,
And plain before my face.

PAUSE.

6 [My watchful enemies combine,
To tempt my feet astray;
They flatter with a base design,
To make my soul their prey.

7 Lord, crush the serpent in the dust,
And all his plots destroy;

While those that in thy mercy trust,
For ever shout for joy.

8 The men who love and fear thy name,
Shall see their hopes fulfill'd ;
The mighty God will compass them,
With favour as a shield.]

e 1

PSALM 6. C. M. Wantage. [b]
Complaint in Sickness: or, Diseases healed.

IN anger, rereadful storm

N anger, Lord, rebuke me not;

Nor let thy fury burn so hot,
Against a feeble worm.

p 2 My soul's bow'd down with heavy cares,
My flesh with pain opprest:

My couch is witness to my tears,

My tears forbid my rest.

3 Sorrow and pain wear out my days;
I waste the night with cries,
Counting the minutes as they pass,
'Till the slow morning rise.

4 Shall I be still tormented more?
Mine eyes consum'd with grief;
How long, my God, how long, before
Thine hand afford relief?

-5 He hears when dust and ashes speak,
He pitiés all our groans;
He saves us for his mercy's sake,
And heals cur broken bones.

o 6 The virtue of his sov'reign word
Restores our fainting breath:

e For silent graves praise not the Lord,
Nor is he known in death.

L. M. [b] Dresden. Pleyel.
Temptations in Sickness overcome.

1 [ORD, I can suffer thy rebukes,

When thou with kindness doth chastise;

But thy fierce wrath I cannot bear,
O let it not against me rise.

2 Pity my languishing estate,
And ease the sorrows that I feel;
The wounds thine heavy hand hath made;
O let thy gentler touches heal.

3 See how I pass my weary days,
In sighs and groans; and when 'tis night,
My bed is water'd with my tears;
My grief consumes and dims my sight.
4 Look, how the powers of nature mourn!
How long, Almighty God, how long?
When shall thine hour of grace return?
When shall I make thy grace my song?
5 I feel my flesh so near the grave,
My thoughts are tempted to despair;
But graves can never praise the Lord,
For all is dust and silence there.
6 Depart, ye tempters, from my soul,
And all despairing thoughts depart ;
My God, who hears my humble moan,
Will ease my flesh, and cheer my heart.]

1

C. M.

PSALM 7. C. M.

M

Bedford. [b] God's Care of his People against Persecutors. trust is in my heav'nly Friend, My hope in thee, my God: • Rise, and my helpless life defend, From those who seek my blood. d 2 With insolence and fury they My soul in pieces tear:

As hungry lions rend the prey,
When no deliv'rer's near.

-3 If I had e'er provok'd them first,
Or once abus'd my foe;

Then let him tread my life to dust,
And lay mine honour low.

e 4 If there were malice found in me,
(I know thy piercing eyes,)

I should not dare appeal to thee,
Nor ask my God to rise.

o 5 Arise, my God, lift up thy hand,
Their pride and pow'r control;
Awake to judgment, and command
Deliv'rance for my soul.

PAUSE.

d [6 Let sinners, and their wicked rage, Be humbled to the dust;

Shall not the God of truth engage

To vindicate the just?

-7 He knows the heart, he tries the reins,
He will defend th' upright;
His sharpest arrows he ordains,
Against the sons of spite.

-8 For me their malice digg'd a pit,
But there themselves are cast;
My God makes all their mischief light
On their own heads at last.

e 9 That cruel persecuting race
Must feel his dreadful sword:

• Awake, my soul, and praise the grace, And justice of the Lord.]

PSALM 8. S. M. St. Thomas. [*]

God's Condescension in conferring Honour upon Man. LORD, our heav'nly King,

1

Thy name is all divine;

Thy glories round the earth are spread,
And o'er the heav'ns they shine.

2 When to thy works on high,
I raise my wond'ring eyes,

And see the moon complete in light,
Adorn the darksome skies ;-

3 When I survey the stars,

And all their shining forms,
Lord, what is man, that worthless thing,
Akin to dust and worms?

4 Lord, what is worthless man; That thou shouldst love him so? g Next to thine angels is he plac'd,

And lord of all below.

5 Thine honours crown his head,
While beasts like slaves obey,

And birds that cut the air with wings,
And fish that cleave the sea.

o 6 How rich thy bounties are!

And wondrous are thy ways: