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7 By long experience have I known
Thy fovereign power to fave;
At thy command I venture down
Securely to the grave.

8 When I lie bury'd deep in duft,
My flefh fhall be thy care;
Thele withering limbs with thee I truft,
To raife them ftrong and fair.

PSALM LXXII. 1 Part. Long Metre. [*]
The kingdom of Chrift.
REAT God, whofe univerfal fway



Now give the kingdom to thy Son,
Extend his power, exalt his throne.
2 Thy fceptre well becomes his hands,.
All heaven fubmits to his commands;
His juftice fhall avenge the poor,
And pride and rage prevail no more.
3 With power he vindicates the juft,
And treads th' oppreffor in the duft:
His worship and his fear fhall laft,

Till hours, and years, and time be paft.
4 As rain on meadows newly mown,
So fhall he fend his influence down;
His grace on fainting fouls diftils,
Like heavenly dew on thirty hills.
5 The heathen lands, that lie beneath
The fhades of overfpreading death,
Revive at his firft dawning light,
And defarts bloffom at the fight.
6 The faints fhall flourish in his days,
Dreft in the robes of joy and praife;
Peace, like a river, from his throne
Shall flow to nations yet unknown.

PSALM LXXII. 2d Part. Long Metre. [*]

Christ's kingdom among the Gentiles.


ESUS fhall reign where'er the fun
Does his fucceffive journies run:
His kingdom ftretch from fhore to fhore,
Till moons fhall wax and wane no more.
[Behold! the iflands, with their kings,
And Europe her beft tribute brings :



From north to fouth the princes meet
To pay their homage at his feet.
3 There Perfia, glorious to behold,
There India fhines in Eaftern gold;
And barbarous nations, at his word,
Submit, and bow, and own their Lord.]
4 For him fhall endless prayer be made,

And praifes throng to crown his head
His name, like fweet perfume, fhall rife
With every morning facrifice.

5 People, and realms of every tongue
Dwell on his love with sweetest song;
And infant voices fhall proclaim
Their early bleffings on his name.
6 Bleffings abound where'er he reigns;
The prifoner leaps to loofe his chains,
The weary find eternal reft,

And all the fons of want are bleft.
7 [Where he difplays his healing power,
Death and the curfe are known no more;
In him the tribes of Adam boast
More bleffings than their father loft.
8 Let every creature rife and bring
Peculiar honours to our King;
Angels defcend with fongs again,
And earth repeat the long amen.]

PSALM LXXIII. 1ft Part. Com. Metre. [b] Afflicted faints happy, and prosperous finners cursed.

NOW I'm convinc'd the Lord is kind

To men of heart fincere,
Yet once my foolish thoughts repin'd
And border'd on defpair.


2 I griev'd to fee the wicked thrive,
And fpoke with angry breath,
"How pleafant and profane they live!
"How peaceful is their death!


"With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes
"They lay their fears to fleep;

Again the heavens their flanders rife,
"While faints in filence weep.



"In vain I lift my hands to pray,
"And cleanfe my heart in vain,

"For I am chaften'd all the day, "The night renews my pain."

Yet while my tongue indulg'd complaints,
I felt my heart reprove;
"Sure I fhall thus offend thy faints,
"And grieve the men I love."

6 But ftill I found my doubts too hard, The conflict too fevere,

Till I retir'd to fearch thy word,
And learn thy fecrets there.

7 There, as in fome prophetic glass,
I faw the finner's feet
High mounted on a flippery place,
Befide a fiery pit.

8 I heard the wretch profanely boast,
Til at thy frown he fell;
His honours in a dream were loft,
And he awakes in hell.

9 Lord, what an envious fool I was!
How like a thoughtless beast!
Thus to fufpect thy promis'd grace,
And think the wicked bleft!

10 Yet I was kept from fell defpair,
Upheld by power unknown;
That bleffed hand that broke the fnare
Shall guide me to thy throne.

PSALM LXXIII. 2d Part. Com. Met. [*]

Ver. 23-28. God our portion here and hereafter.
OD, my fupporter and my hope,
My help for ever near,


Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When finking in despair.

2 Thy counfels, Lord, fhall guide my feet
Through this dark wilderness;

Thine hand conduct me near thy feat,
To dwell before thy face.


3 Were I in heaven without my God,
'Twould be no joy to me;
And whilst this earth is my abode,
I long for none but thee.

4 What if the fprings of life were broke, And flesh and heart fhould faint!


Long Metre. [*] Ver. 22, 3, 6, 17—20. The profperity of finners curfed. 1 LORD, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn, and murmur, and repine To fee the wicked plac'd on high, In pride and robes of honour thine! 2 But, O their end, their dreadful end! Thy fanctuary taught me fo: On flippery rocks I fee them ftand, And fiery billows roll below.

God is my foul's eternal rock,
The ftrength of every faint.
5 Behold the finners, that remove
Far from thy prefence, die ;
Not all the idol gods they love
Can fave them when they cry.
6 But to draw near to thee, my God,
Shall be my fweet employ;
My tongue fhall found thy works abroad,
And tell the world my joy.

3 Now let them boast how tall they rife,
I'll never envy them again,
There they may ftand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.
4 Their fancy'd joys, how faft they flee!
Juft like a dream when man awakes;
Their fongs of fofteft harmony
Are but a preface to their plagues.
5 Now I efteem their mirth and wine



Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God.

PSALM LXXIII. Short Metre. [b]
The mystery of providence unfolded.

SURE there's a righteous God,
Nor is religion
Though men of vice may boaft aloud,
And men of grace complain.

I faw the wicked rife, And felt my heart repine,


While haughty fools, with fcornful eyes,
In robes of honour fhine.


[Pamper'd with wanton eafe,

Their flesh looks full and fair:
Their wealth rolls in like flowing feas,
And grows without their care.

4 Free from the plagues and pains
That pious fouls endure,

Through all their life oppreffion reigns,
And racks the humble poor.
Their impious tongues blaspheme
The everlafting God:

Their malice blafts the good man's name,
And fpreads their lies abroad.

6 But I, with flowing tears,
Indulg'd my doubts to rife;
"Is there a God that fees or hears
"The things below the fkies?"]
The tumults of my thought
Held me in hard fufpenfe,
Till to thy house my feet were brought,
To learn thy juftice thence.


8 Thy word with light and power Did my mistakes amend;


I view'd the finners' lives before,
But here I learnt their end.
On what a flippery fleep
The thoughtlefs wretches go:
And O that dreadful fiery deep,
That waits their fall below!
10 Lord, at thy feet I bow,

My thoughts no more repine;
I call my God my portion now,
And all my powers are thine.

PSALM LXXIV. Common Metre. [b]

The church pleading with God under fore perfecution.
God forever caft us off?
His wrath forever smoke



Against the people of his love,
His little chofen flock?

2 Think of the tribes fo dearly bought With their Redeemer's blood;

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