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CCLXIV.

The Church is God's

House and Care. Plal. cxxxv.

P

I RAISE ye the Lord, exalt his name,
While in his holy courts ye wait;
Ye faints, that to his houfe belong,
Or ftand attending at his gate.

2 Praise ye the Lord; the Lord is good,
To praise his name is fweet employ ;
Ifrael he chofe of old, and ftill
His church is his peculiar joy.

3 The Lord himself will judge his faints;
He treats his fervants as his friends;
And when he hears their fore complaints,
Removes the forrows that he fends.

4 Thro' ev'ry age, the Lord declares
His name, and breaks th' oppreffor's rod;
He gives his fuff'ring fervants reft,
And will be known th' Almighty God.

anointed with it. But it feems very improper, and unneceffary to suppose that the oil was spread over his garment. See more. Dr. Jenning's Lectures on Jewish Antiquities. Vol. I. Page 223. Yet as the fyllables are the same, (any reader who pleases, may put garment for collar.

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5

Blefs ye the Lord who taste his love,
People and prieft exalt his name;
Amongst his faints he ever dwells,
His church is his Jerufalem.

CCLXV.

I

God's Wonders of

Creation, Providence and Grace.

Pfal. cxxxvi.

G

IVE thanks to God, the fov'reign Lord,
His mercies ftill endure;

And be the king of kings adord,

His truth is ever fure.

2 What wonders hath his wifdom done!
How mighty is his hand!

Heav'n, earth, and fea, he fram'd alone,
How wide is his command!

3 The fun fupplies the day with light;
How bright his counfels fhine!
The moon and stars adorn the night;
His works are all divine.

4

He faw the nations dead in fin ;

He felt his pity move:

How fad the ftate, the world was in!

5

How boundless was his love.

He fent to fave us from our woe ;
(His goodness never fails ;),

2

From

From death, and hell, and ev'ry foe;
And still his grace prevails.

6 Give thanks to God, the heav'nly king;

His mercies ftill endure;

Let the whole earth his praises fing,
His truth is ever fure.

CCLXVI. The

G

The fame. cxxxvi.

Pfal.

IVE to our God immortal praise !
Mercy and truth are all his ways:
Wonders of grace to God belong;
Repeat his mercies in your fong.

2. Give to the Lord of lords renown;
The King of kings with glory crown:
His mercies ever fhall endure,

3.

4

When lords and kings are known no more.

He built the earth, he spread the sky,
And fix'd the ftarry lights on high:
Wonders of grace to God belong;
Repeat his mercies in your fong.

He fills the fun with morning light;
He bids the moon direct the night :
His mercies ever shall endure,

When funs and moons shall shine no more.

5

The Jews he freed from Pharoah's hand,
And brought them to the promis'd land :

Wonders

Wonders of grace to God belong;
Repeat his mercies in your fong.

6 He saw the nations dead in fin,
And felt his pity work within:
His mercies ever shall endure,

When death and fin shall reign no more.

He fent his Son with pow'r to save
From guilt and darkness, and the grave:
Wonders of grace to God belong.;

Repeat his mercies in your fong.

8 Thro' this vain world he guides our feet,
And leads us to his heav'nly feat:
His mercies ever shall endure,

When this vain world fhall be no more.

CCLXVII.

The All-feeing God.

Pfalm cxxxix. 1, &c.

LORD, thou haft fearch'd, and feen me thro';

Thine eye commands with piercing view,

My rifing and my refting hours,

My heart and flesh, with all their pow'rs.

2 My thoughts, before they are my own,
Are to my God, distinctly known;
He knows the words I mean to speak,
E'er from my op'ning lips they break.
3 Within thy circling pow'r I ftand;

On ev'ry fide I find thy hand :

Awake

Awake, asleep, at home, abroad,
I am furrounded ftill with God.

4 The veil of night is no difguife,
No skreen from thy all-fearching eyes:
Thy hand can feize thy foes as foon,
Thro' midnight fhades as blazing noon..

5 Midnight and noon, in this agree,
Great God they're both alike to thee;
Not death can hide what God will spy,
And hell lies naked to his eye.

6 Amazing knowledge, vaft and great!
What large extent! what lofty height !
My foul, with all the pow'rs I boast,
Is in the boundless profpect loft.

70 may these thoughts poffefs my breaft,
Where-e'er I rove, where e'er I reft!
Nor let my weaker passions dare
Confent to fin, for God is there.

CCLXVIII. Sincerity poffeffed.
Pfal. cxxxix. 21, &e..

M

Y God, what inward grief I feel,
When impious men tranfgrefs thy will!
I mourn to hear their lips profane,
Take thy tremendous name in vain.

2 Does not my foul deteft and hate
The fons of malice and deceit ?

Thofe

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