6 Thy light and truth shall guide me still;
Thy word shall my best thoughts employ,
And lead me to thy heavenly hill,
My God, my most exceeding joy.
JUDGE me, O God, and plead my cause,
Against a sinful race;
From vile oppression and deceit
Secure me by thy grace.
2 On thee my steadfast hope depends,
And am I left to mourn?
To sink in sorrow, and in vain
Implore thy kind return?
3 0! send thy light to guide my feet,
And bid thy truth appear;
Conduct me to thy holy hill,
To taste thy mercies there.
4 Then to thy altar, O my God,
My joyful feet shall rise,
And my triumphant songs shall praise
The God that rules the skies.
5 Sink not, my soul, beneath thy fear,
Nor yield to dark despair;
For I shall live to praise the Lord,
And bless his guardian care.
ORD, we have heard thy works of old,
Thy works of power and grace,
When to our ears our fathers told
The wonders of their days.
2 They saw the beauteous churches rise,
The spreading gospel run;
While light and glory from the skies
Through all their temples shone.
3 In God they boasted all the day,
And in a cheerful throng
Did thousands meet to praise and pray,
And grace was all their song.
4 But now our souls are seized with shame, Confusion fills our face,
To hear the enemy blaspheme,
And fools reproach thy grace.
5 Yet have we not forgot our God,
Nor falsely dealt with heaven;
Nor have our steps declined the road
Of duty thou hast given:
6 Though dragons all around us roar
With their destructive breath,
And thine own hand has bruised us sore,
Hard by the gates of death.
7 We are exposed all day to die,
As martyrs for thy name;
As sheep for slaughter bound we lie,
And wait the kindling flame.
8 Awake, arise, almighty Lord,
Why sleeps thy wonted grace?
Why should we seem like men abhorred,
Or banished from thy face?
9 Wilt thou for ever cast us off,
And still neglect our cries?
For ever hide thine heavenly love
From our afflicted eyes?
10 Down to the dust our soul is bowed,
And dies upon the ground;
Rise for our help, rebuke the proud,
And all their
powers confound.
11 Redeem us from perpetual shame,
Our Saviour and our God;
We plead the honours of thy name,
The merits of thy blood.
"LL speak the honours of my King,
His form divinely fair;
None of the sons of mortal race
May with the Lord compare.
2 Sweet is thy speech, and heavenly grace
Upon thy lips is shed;
Thy God, with blessings infinite,
Hath crowned thy sacred head.
3 Gird on thy sword, victorious Prince,
Ride with majestic sway;
Thy terror shall strike through thy foes,
And make the world obey.
4 Thy throne, O God, for ever stands,
Thy word of grace shall prove
A peaceful sceptre in thy hands,
To rule thy saints by love.
5 Justice and truth attend thee still,
But mercy is thy choice:
And God, thy God, thy soul shall fill
With most peculiar joys.
[OW, be my heart inspired to sing
The glories of my Saviour King,
Jesus the Lord; how heavenly fair
His form! how bright his beauties are!
2 O'er all the sons of human race
He shines with far superior grace;
Love from his lips divinely flows,
And blessings all his state compose.
3 Dress thee in arms, most mighty Lord,
Gird on the terror of thy sword;
In majesty and glory ride
With truth and meckness at thy side.
4 Thine anger, like a pointed dart,
Shall pierce the foes of stubborn heart;
Or words of mercy kind and sweet
Shall melt the rebels at thy feet.
5 Thy throne, O God, for ever stands,
Grace is the sceptre in thy hands;
Thy laws and works are just and right,
But grace and justice thy delight.
6 God, thine own God, has richly shed
His oil of gladness on thy head;
And with his sacred Spirit blest
His first-born Son above the rest.
THE King of saints, how fair his face,
Adorned with majesty and grace!
He comes with blessings from above,
And wins the nations to his love.
2 At his right hand our eyes behold
The queen arrayed in purest gold;
The world admires her heavenly dress,
Her robes of joy and righteousness.
3 He forms her beauties like his own,
He calls and seats her near his throne;
Fair stranger, let thine heart forget
The idols of thy native state.
4 So shall the King the more rejoice
In thee, the favourite of his choice;
Let him be loved, and yet adored,
For he's thy Maker and thy Lord.
50! happy hour, when thou shalt rise
To his fair palace in the skies,
And all thy sons, a numerous train,
Each like a prince in glory reign.
6 Let endless honours crown his head,
Let every age his praises spread ;
While we with cheerful songs approve
The condescension of his love.
OD is the refuge of his saints,
When storms of sharp distress invade;
Ere we can offer our complaints,
Behold him present with his aid.
2 Let mountains from their seats be hurled
Down to the deep, and buried there;
Convulsions shake the solid world,
Our faith shall never yield to fear.
3 Loud may the troubled ocean roar,
In sacred peace our souls abide;
While every nation, every shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide.
4 There is a stream, whose gentle flow
Supplies the city of our God;
Life, love, and joy still gliding through,
And watering our divine abode.
5 That sacred stream, thine holy word,
Supports our faith, our fear controls;
Sweet peace thy promises afford,
And give new strength to fainting souls.
6 Sion enjoys her Monarch's love,
Secure against a threatening hour;
Nor can her firm foundation move,
Built on his truth, and armed with power.
LET Sion in her King rejoice,
Though tyrants rage, and kingdoms rise;
He utters his almighty voice,
The nations melt, the tumult dies.
2 The Lord of old for Jacob fought,
And Jacob's God is still our aid;
Behold the works his hand has wrought,
What desolations he has made!
|