And, till the ftars afcend the ikies,
Your tirefome toi purfue.
3 Short be your deep, and coarse your fare,
In vain, till God has bleft;
But if his fmiles attend your care,
You fhall have food and rest.
Nor children, relatives, nor friends,
Shall real bleffings prove,
Now all the earthly joys he fends,
If fent without his love.
PSALM CXXVIII. Common Metre. [*].
Family blefings.
1 HAPPY man, whole foul is fill'd
With zeal and reverend awe!
His lips to God their honours yield,
His life adorns the law.
2 A careful Providence hall stand,
And ever guard thy head,
Shall on the labours of thy hand
Its kindly bleffings fhed.
3 Thy wife fhall be a fruitful vine;
Thy children round thy board,
Each like plant of honour fhine,
And learn to fear the Lord.
4 The Lord fhall thy beft hopes fulfil
For months and years to come;
The Lord who dwells on Zion's hill
Shall fend thee bleffings home.
This is the man whofe happy eyes
Shall fee his houfe increafe,
Shall fee the finking church arife,
Then leave the world in peace.
PSALM CXXIX. Common Metre. [b]
Perfecutors punished.
from my youth, may Ifrael fay,
Have I been nurs'd in tears;
My griefs were conftant as the day,
And tedious as the years.
2 Up from my youth I bore the rage
Of all the fons of ftrife;
Oft they affail'd my riper age,
But not deftroy'd my life.
3 Their cruel plough had torn my flesh,
With furrows long and deep;
Hourly they vex'd my wounds afresh,
Nor let my forrows fleep.
4 The Lord grew angry on his throne,
And, with impartial eye,
Meafur'd the mifchiefs they had done,
Then let his arrows fly.
5 How was their infolence furpris'd
To hear his thunders roll!
And all the foes of Zion feiz'd
With horror to the foul!
6 Thus fhall the men that hate the faints
Be blafted from the sky;
Their glory fades, their courage faints,
And all their projects die.
7 [What though they flourish tall and fair,
They have no root beneath;
Their growth fhall perifh in defpair,
And lie defpis'd in death.]
8 [So corn, that on the houfe-top stands,
No hope of harveft gives;
The reaper ne'er fhall fill his hands,
Nor binder fold the heaves.
9 It fprings and withers on the place :"
No traveller bestows
A word of bleffing on the grafs,
Nor minds it as he goes.]
PSALM CXXX., Common Metre. [b]
OUT of the deeps of long diftrefs,
The borders of defpair,
I fent my cries to feek thy grace,
My groans to move thine ear.
2 Great God! fhould thy feverer eye
And thine impartial hand
Mark and revenge iniquity,
No mortal flesh could fland.
3 But there are pardons with my God
For crimes of high degree;
Thy Son hath bought them with his blood,
To draw us near to thee..
4 [I wait for thy falvation, Lord,
With ftrong defires I wait;
My foul, invited by thy word,
Stands watching at thy gate.]
5 [Juft as the guards that keep the night
Long for the morning fkies,
Watch the first beams of breaking light,
And meet them with their eyes:
6 So waits my foul to fee thy grace,
And, more intent than they,
Meets the firft openings of thy face,
And finds a brighter day.]
7 Then in the Lord let Ifrael trust,
Let Ifrael feek his face;
The Lord is good as well as juft,
And plenteous is his grace.
8 There's full redemption at his throne
For finners long enflav'd;
The great Redeemer is his Son,
And Ifrael fhall be fav'd.
PSALM CXXX. Long Metre. [*]
Pardoning grace.
FROM deep diftrefs and troubled thoughts,
To thee, my God, I rais'd my cries!
If thou feverely mark our faults,
No flefh could ftand before thine eyes.
2 But thou haft built thy throne of grace,
Free to difpenfe thy pardons there,
That finners may approach thy face,
And hope and love as well as fear.
3 As the benighted pilgrims wait,
And long and with for breaking day,
So waits my foul before thy gate;
When will my God his face difplay?
4 My truft is fix'd upon thy word;
Nor fhall I truft thy word in vain:
Let mourning fouls addrefs the Lord,
And find relief from all their pain.
5 Great is his love, and large his grace,
Through the redemption of his Son:
He turns our feet from finful ways,
And pardons what our hands have done.
UT of the deeps of long diftrefs,
The borders of defpair,
I fent my cries to feek thy grace,
My groans to move thine ear.
Great God! fhould thy feverer eye
And thine impartial hand
Mark and revenge iniquity,
No mortal flefh could ftand.
3 But there are pardons with my God
For crimes of high degree;"
Thy Son hath bought them with his blood,
To draw us near to thee..
4 [I wait for thy falvation, Lord,
With ftrong defires I wait;
My foul, invited by thy word,
Stands watching at thy gate.]
5 [Juft as the guards that keep the night
Long for the morning fkies,
Watch the firft beams of breaking light,
And meet them with their eyes:
6 So waits my foul to fee thy grace,
And, more intent than they,
Meets the firft openings of thy face,
And finds a brighter day.]
7 Then in the Lord let Ifrael truft,
Let Ifrael feek his face;
The Lord is good as well as juft,
And plenteous is his grace.
8 There's full redemption at his throne
For finners long enflav'd;
The great Redeemer is his Son,
And Ifrael fhall be fav'd.
PSALM CXXX. Long Metre. [*]
Pardoning grace.
1 FROM deep diftrefs and troubled thoughts,
To thee, my God, I rais'd my cries!
If thou feverely mark our faults,
No flefh could ftand before thine eyes.
2 But thou haft built thy throne of grace,
Free to difpenfe thy pardons there,
That finners may approach thy face,
And hope and love as well as fear.
3 As the benighted pilgrims wait,
And long and wish for breaking day,
So waits my foul before thy gate;
When will my God his face difplay?
4 My truft is fix'd upon thy word;
Nor fhall I truft thy word in vain:
Let mourning fouls addrefs the Lord,
And find relief from all their pain.
5 Great is his love, and large his grace,
Through the redemption of his Son:
He turns our feet from finful ways,
And pardons what our hands have done.
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