But I am dumb before thy throne, 2 Diseases are thy fervants, Lord; 3 Yet 4 may I plead with humble cries, Cruth'd as a moth beneath thy hand, Our feeble powers can ne'er withstand, 5 [This mortal life decays apace, How foon the bubbie's broke! 6 I'm but a fojourner below, 7 But if my life he fpar'd a while, PSALM XL. At Part. Common Metre. [*] 1 I Ver. 1, 2, 3, 5, 17. A fong of deliverance from great difirefs. He faw me refting on his word, 2 He rais'd me from a horrid pit, 3 Firm on a rock he made me ftand, 4 I'll fpread his works of grace abroad; 5 How many are thy thoughts of love! 6 When I'm afflicted, poor and low, 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 ; 1 THUS "In dying goats and bullocks flain "My foul delights no more." 2 Then fpake the Saviour, "Lo, I'm here, 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! 5 Much he reveal'd his Father's grace, 6 His Father's honour touch'd his heart, 7 And, to fulfil a Saviour's part, PAUSE. No blood of beafts, on altars fhed, Atenes for all our fin. 8 Then was the great falvation spread, And Satan's kingdom fhook; 1 Thus by the woman's promis'd feed PSALM XL. Long Metre. [*] THE 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 cleanse the fouls of men from guilt; 3 Lo! thine eternal Son appears! 5 7 1 "The Spirit fhall defcend, and fhow "The wondering world fhall learn thy grace, PSALM XLI. Long Metre. [*] BLE Ver. 1, 2, 3. Charity to the poor; or, pity to the afflicted. He, in the time of general grief, 4 Or, if he languish on his couch, Ver. 1-5. 1 [b] Defertion and hope; or, complaint of abfence from public worship. WITH earnest longings of the mind, WIT My God, to thee I look; So pants the hunted hart to find And taste the cooling brook. 2 When shall I fee thy courts of grace, 3 Temptations vex my weary foul, The foe infults without control, Then to thy houfe did numbers go, 5 But why, my foul, funk down fo far Why do my thoughts indulge despair, 6 Hope in the Lord, whofe mighty hand For I fhall yet before him ftand, PSALM XLII. Long Metre. [*] Ver. 6-11. Melancholy thoughts reproved; or, hope in affliction. 1 MY Y fpirit finks within me, Lord, And times of paft diftrefs record, When I have found my God was kind. e Huge troubles, with tumultuous noise, 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, 66 And fay, "My God, my heavenly rock! 6 Thy light and truth fhall guide me flill; 1 PSALM XLIV. Common Metre. [b] The church's complaint in perfecution. When to our ears our fathers told The wonders of their days. 2 How thou didft build thy churches here, Amongst them did thine arm appear, 3 In God they boafted all the day; Did thousands meet to praife and pray, 4 But now our fouls are feiz'd with fhame, To hear the enemy blafpheme, 5 Yet have we not forgot our God, |