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But I am dumb before thy throne,
Nor dare difpute thy will.
2 Diseases are thy fervants, Lord;
They come at thy command;
I'll not attempt a murmuring word
Against thy chaftening hand.
3 Yet may

I plead with humble cries,
"Remove thy fharp rebukes ;"
My ftrength confumes, my fpirit dies,
Through thy repeated ftrokes.

4 Cruth'd as a moth beneath thy hand,
We moulder to the duft;
Our feeble powers can ne'er withstand,
And all our beauty's loft.

5 [This mortal life decays apace,

How foon the bubbie's broke! Adam and all his numerous race Are vanity and fmoke.]

6 I'm but a fojourner below,
As all my fathers were;
May I be well prepar'd to go
When I the ummons hear.


But if my life he fpar'd a while,
Before my laft remove,

Thy praife thall be my bufinefs ftill,
And I'll declare thy love.

PSALM XL. ft Part. Common Metre. [*]

Ver. 1, 2, 3, 5, 17.

A fong of deliverance from great difirefs.
WAITED patient for the Lord;
He bow'd to hear my ery;
He faw me refting on his word,
And brought falvation nigh.
2 He rais'd me from a horrid pit,
Where mourning long 1 lay;
And from my bonds releas'd my feet,
Deep bonds of miry clay.


3 Firm on a rock he made me ftand,
And taught my cheerful tongue
To praife the wonders of his hand,
In a new thankful fong.


4 I'll fpread his works of grace abroad;
The faints with joy fhall hear,
And finners learn to make my God
Their only hope and fear.

5 How many are thy thoughts of love!
Thy mercies, Lord, how great!
We have not words nor hours enough
Their numbers to repeat.

6 When I'm afflicted, poor and low,
And light and peace depart,
My God beholds my heavy wo

And bears me on his heart.

PSALM XL. 2d Part. Com. Metre. [*] Ver. 6-9. The incarnation and facrifice of Chrift. HUS faith the Lord, "Your work is vain, "Give your burnt offerings o'er ; "In dying goats and bullocks flain "My foul delights no more."


1 TH

2 Then fpake the Saviour, "Lo, I'm here,
"My God, to do thy will;
"Whate'er thy facred books declare,
"Thy fervant fhall fulfil.

3 "Thy law is ever in my fight,
"I keep it near my heart;
"Mine ears are open'd with delight
"To what thy lips impart."

4 And fee, the bleft Redeemer comes!
Th' eternal Son appears!
And at the appointed time affumes
The body God prepares.

5 Much he reveal'd his Father's grace,
And much his truth he fhew'd,
And preach'd the way of righteousness,
Where great affemblies flood.

6 His Father's honour touch'd his heart, He pity'd finners' cries,

And, to fulfil a Saviour's part,

Was made a facrifice.


7 No blood of beasts, on altars fhed,
Could wash the confcience clean;
But the rich facrifice he paid
Atenes for all our fin.

8 Then was the great falvation fpread,
And Satan's kingdom fhook;
Thus by the woman's promis'd feed
The ferpent's head was broke.
PSALM XL. Long Metre. [*]


Ver. 5-10. Chrift our facrifice.
HE wonders, Lord, thy love has wrought,
Exceed our praife, furmount our thought;
Should I attempt the long detail,

My fpeech would faint, my numbers fail.
2 No blood of beafts on altars fpilt,
Can cleanfe the fouls of men from guilt;
But thou haft fet before our eyes
An all-fufficient facrifice.


3 Lo! thine eternal Son appears!
To thy defigns he bows his ears;
Affumes a body well prepar'd,
And well performs a work fo hard.
4 "Behold, I come," (the Saviour cries,
With love and duty in his eyes)
"I come to bear the heavy load
"Of fins, and do thy will, my God.
5 "Tis written in thy great decree,
""Tis in thy book foretold of me,
"I muft falfil the Saviour's part;
"And lo! thy law is in my heart.
6"I'll magnify thy holy law,

"And rebels to obedience draw,
"When on my crofs I'm lifted high,
"Or to my crown above the sky.


"The Spirit fhall defcend, and fhow
"What thou haft done, and what I do;
"The wondering world fhall learn thy grace,
Thy wifdom, and thy righteousness.'


PSALM XLI. Long Metre. [*]



Ver. 1, 2, 3. Charity to the poor; or, pity to the afflicted.
LEST is the man, whose bowels move,
And melt with pity to the poor;
Whofe foul, by fympathifing love,
Feels what his fellow-faints endure.
2 His heart contrives for their relief
More good than his own hands can do ;

He, in the time of general grief,
Shall find the Lord has bowels too.
His foul fhall live fecure on earth,
With fecret bleffings on his head,
When drought, and peftilence, and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.
4 Or, if he languifh on his couch,

God will pronounce his fins forgiven,
Will fave him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing foul to heaven.

Ver. 1-5.


PSALM XLII. Common Metre. [b] Defertion and hope; or, complaint of abfence from public worship. ITH earneft longings of the mind, My God, to thee I look; So pants the hunted hart to find And tafte the cooling brook. When fhall I fee thy courts of grace, And meet my God again? So long an abfence from thy face My heart endures with pain. 3 Temptations vex my weary foul, And tears are my repast; The foe infults without control, "And where's your God at last ?" 'Tis with a mournful pleasure, now, I think on ancient days: Then to thy houfe did numbers go, And all our work was praise.


5 But why, my foul, funk down fo far Beneath this heavy load?

Why do my thoughts indulge despair,
And fin against my God?

6 Hope in the Lord, whofe mighty hand
Can all thy woes remove;

For I fhall yet before him ftand,
And fing reftoring love.

PSALM XLII. Long Metre. [*]

Ver. 6-11. Melancholy thoughts reproved; or, hope in


TY fpirit finks within me, Lord,
But I will call thy name to mind,


And times of paft diftrefs record, When I have found my God was kind. e Huge troubles, with tumultuous noife, Swell like a fea, and round me fpread; Thy water-fpouts drown all my joys, And rifing waves roll o'er my head. 3 Yet will the Lord command his love, When I addrefs his throne by day; Nor in the night his grace remove; The night fhall hear me fing and pray. 4 I'll caft myself before his feet,



And fay, "My God, my heavenly rock!
Why doth thy love fo long forget
"The foul that groans beneath thy ftroke ?"
I'll chide my heart that finks fo low:
Why fhould my foul indulge her grief?
Hope in the Lord, and praife him too :
He is my reft, my fure relief.

6 Thy light and truth fhall guide me fill;
Thy word fhall my best thoughts employ,
And lead me to thine holy hill,
My God, my moft exceeding joy!

PSALM XLIV. Common Metre. [b]
Ver. 1, 2, 3, 8, 15-26.

The church's complaint in perfecution.
ORD, we have heard thy works of old,
of power grace,
When to our ears our fathers told
The wonders of their days.

2 How thou didft build thy churches here,
And make thy gospel known;
Amongst them did thine arm appear,
Thy light and glory fhone.

3 In God they boafted all the day;
And in a cheerful throng

Did thousands meet to praife and pray,
And grace was all their fong.

4 But now our fouls are feiz'd with fhame, Confufion fills our face,

To hear the enemy blafpheme, And fools reproach thy grace. 5 Yet have we not forgot our God, Nor falfely dealt with Heaven;

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