1

SECOND PART.

Ye rivers, as ye flow,

Convey your Maker's name,
Where'er you winding rove
On every silver stream.

Your cooling flood,

His hand ordains,

To bless the plains; Great spring of good!

2 Ye numerous bleating flocks,

Far spreading o'er the plain,
With gentle artless voice,
Assist the humble strain.

To give you food,

Its verdure yield,

3

4

1

He bids the field

Extensive good.

Ye herds of nobler size,

Who graze in meads below;
Resound your Maker's praise,

In each responsive low.

You wait his hand; The herbage grows,

The riv'let flows

At his command.

Ye feather'd warblers, come,
And bring your sweetest lays;
And tune the sprightly song
To your Creator's praise.

His work you are,

And you rejoice

He tun'd your voice,

Beneath his care.

THIRD PART.

Ye trees, which form the shade,
Or bend the loaded bough
With fruits of sweetest taste,

Your Maker's bounty shew.

From him you rose,

And auturan fruits

Your vernal suits

His hand bestows.

In all your green array,

Though silent, speak his praise,
Who makes you bright and gay.

With future bread,

While we in you,

Profusely spread,

His goodness view.

3 Ye flowers, which bloom around A thousand beauteous dies,

4

5

Your fragrant odours breathe,
A grateful sacrifice :

To him whose word

Gave all your bloom

And sweet perfume; All bounteous Lord!

But, O, from human tongues

Should nobler praises flow;
And every thankful heart

With warm devotion glow.

Your voices raise, Ye highly blest,

Above the rest,

Declare his praise.

1 BEGIN, my soul, th' exalted lay; Let each enraptur'd thought obey, And praise th' Almighty name;

Lo heaven, and earth, and seas, and skies, In one melodious concert rise,

To swell th' inspiring theme.

2 Ye angels, spread the joyful sound,
While all the adoring throngs around
His wondrous mercy sing;

Let every listening saint above,
Wake all the tuneful soul of love,
And touch the loudest strain.

3 Thou heaven of heavens, his vast abode,
Ye clouds, proclaim your Maker, God,
Ye thunders, speak his power;
Lo! on the lightning's rapid wings,
In triumph rides the King of kings;
Th' astonish'd worlds adore.

4 Ye deeps, with roaring billows rise,
To join the thunder of the skies;
Praise him who bids you roll;
His praise in softer notes declare,
Each whispering breeze of yielding air,
And breathe it to the soul.

5 Wake, all ye soaring throng, and sing;
Ye cheerful warblers of the spring,
Harmonious anthems raise;
To him who shap'd your finer mould,
Who tipt your glittering wings with gold,
And tun'd your voice to praise.

6 Let man, by nobler passions sway'd,
The feeling heart, the reas'ning head,
In heavenly praise employ ;
Spread the Creator's name around,
Till heaven's wide arch repeat the sound,
The general burst of joy.

B. WILLIAMS's Collection.

PSALM CXLIX. Particular Metre.

Thanksgiving.

1 O PRAISE ye the Lord,

Prepare your glad voice,

His praise in the great
Assembly to sing.
In their great Creator
Let all men rejoice,
And heirs of salvation
Be glad in their King.

2 Let them his great name
Devoutly adore;

In loud swelling strains
His praises express,
Who graciously opens
His bountiful store,
Their wants to relieve, and
His children to bless.

3 With glory adorn'd,
His people shall sing
To God, who defence
And plenty supplies:
Their loud acclamations
To him their great King,

Through earth shall be sounded,
And reach to the skies.

4 Ye angels above,

His glories who've sung,

In loftiest notes,

Now publish his praise :
We mortals delighted,
Would borrow your tongue;
Would join in your numbers,
And chant to your lays.

*

TATE, varied,

1 PRAISE ye the Lord, let praise employ,
In his own courts, your songs of joy ;
The spacious firmament around
Shall echo back the joyful sound.

2 Recount his works in strains divine,
His wondrous works, how bright they shine!
Praise him for all his mighty deeds,
Whose greatness all your praise exceeds.
3 Awake the trumpet's piercing sound,
To spread your sacred pleasure round;
While softer musick tunes the lute,
The warbling harp, the breathing flute.
4 Ye virgin train with joy advance,
To praise him in the graceful dance;
Awake each voice, and strike each string,
And to the solemn organ sing.

5 Let the loud cymbal sound on high,
To softer, deeper notes reply;
Harmonious, let the concert rise,
And bear the rapture to the skies.
6 Let all whom life and breath inspire
Attend and join the blissful choir;
But chiefly ye who know his word,
Adore, and love, and praise the Lord!

MRS. STEELE.

END OF THE PSALMS.