3 O may the righteous, when I stray,
Smite and reprove my wandering way!
Their gentle words, like ointment, fhed,
Shall never bruife, but cheer my head.
When I behold them prefs'd with grief,
I'll cry to Heaven for their relief;
And by my warm petitions prove
How much I prize their faithful love.
PSALM CXLII. Common Metre. [b]
God is the hope of the helpless.
1 TO God I made my forrows known,
From God I fought relief;
In long complaints before his throne
I pour'd out all my grief.
2 My foul was overwhelm'd with woes,
My heart began to break;
My God, who all my burdens knows,
He knows the way I take.
3 On every fide I caft mine eye,
And found my helpers gone;
While friends and ftrangers pafs'd me by,
Neglected and unknown.
4 Then did I raise a louder cry,
And call'd thy mercy near, "Thou art my portion when I die, "Be thou my refuge here."
5 Lord, I am brought exceeding low;
Now let thine ear attend;
And make my foes, who vex me, know
I've an almighty Friend.
6 From my fad prifon fet me free,
Then fhall I praise thy name;
And holy men fhall join with me
Thy kindness to proclaim.
PSALM CXLIII. Long Metre. [b] Complaint of heavy afflictions in mind and body. MY Y righteous Judge, my gracious God, Hear when I fpread my hands abroad, And cry for fuccour from thy throne: O make thy truth and mercy known. 2 Let judgment not against me pafs; Behold thy fervant pleads thy grace:
Should juftice call us to thy bar,
No man alive is guiltlefs there.
3 Look down in pity, Lord, and fee
The mighty woes that burden me;
Down to the duft my life is brought,
Like one long bury'd and forgot.
I dwell in darkness and unfeen,
My heart is defolate within;
My thoughts in mufing filence trace The ancient wonders of thy grace. 5 Thence I derive a glimpfe of hope To bear my finking spirits up; I ftretch my hands to God again, And thirst, like parched lands, for rain. 6 For thee I thirft, I pray, I mourn; When will thy fmiling face return? Shall all my joys on earth remove? And God forever hide his love? 7 My God, thy long delay to fave Will fink thy prifoner to the grave; My heart grows faint, and dim mine eye: Make hafte to help before I die. 8 The night is witnefs to my tears, Diftreffing pains, diftreffing fears; O might I hear thy morning voice, How would my wearied powers rejoice! In thee I truft, to thee I figh, And lift my weary foul on high; For thee fit waiting all the day, And wear the tirefome hours away.
10 Break off my fetters, Lord, and fhow
Which is the path my feet fhould go;
If fnares and foes befet the road,
I flee to hide me near my God.
11 Teach me to do thy holy will,
And lead me to thy heavenly hill;
Let the good Spirit of thy love
Conduct me to thy courts above.
12 Then fhall my foul no more complain,
The tempter then fhall rage in vain;
And flesh, that was my foe before,
Shall never vex my spirit more.
PSALM CXLIV. 1ft Part. Com. Met. [*] Affiftance and victory in the fpiritual warfare.
FOREVER bleffed be the Lord,
My Saviour and my fhield;
He fends his Spirit with his word,
To arm me for the field.
2 When fin and hell their force unite,
He makes my foul his care,
Inftructs me to the heavenly fight,
And guards me through the war.
3 A friend and helper fo divine
Doth my weak courage raife;
He makes the glorious victory mine,
And his fhall be the praife.
PSALM CXLIV. 2d Part. Com. Metre. [b]
Ver. 3-6. The vanity of man, and condefcenfion of
God.
LORD, what is man, poor feeble man,
Born of the earth at firft!
His life a fhadow, light and vain,
Still hafting to the duft.
2O what is feeble, dying man,
Or any of his race,
That God fhould make it his concern
To vifit him with grace?
3 That God, who darts his lightnings down,
Who fhakes the worlds above,
And mountains tremble at his frown,
How wondrous is his love!
PSALM CXLIV. Long Metre. [*] Ver. 12-15. Grace above riches; or, the happy nation.
[APPY the city where their fons
Like pillars round a palace fet,
And daughters, bright as polifh'd stones,
Give ftrength and beauty to the state.
2 Happy the country where the fheep,
Cattle and corn, have large increase;
Where men fecurely work or fleep,
Nor fons of plunder break their peace.
3 Happy the nation thus endow'd;
But more divinely bleft are thofe,
On whom the ail-fufficient God,
Himfelf, with all his grace bestows.
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Y God, my King, thy various praise
Shall fill the remnant of my days:
Thy grace employ my humble tongue,
Till death and glory raise the song.
2 The wings of every hour fhall bear
Some thankful tribute to thine ear;
And every fetting fun fhall fee
New works of duty done for thee.
8 Thy truth and juftice I'll proclaim;
Thy bounty flows, an endlefs ftream;
Thy mercy fwift; thine anger' flow,
But dreadful to the ftubborn foe.
4 Thy works with fovereign glory fhine,
And fpeak thy majefty divine;
Let"
every realm with joy" proclaim
The found and honour of thy name.
5 Let diftant times and nations raise
The long fucceffion of thy praise;
And unborn ages make my fong
The joy and labour of their tongue.
6 But who can fpeak thy wondrous deeds?
Thy greatnefs all our thoughts exceeds;
Valt and unfearchable thy ways;
Vaft and immortal be thy praife!
PSALM CXLV. 1ft Part. Com. Metre. [*]
Ver. 1-7, 11-13. The greatness of God.
1 LONG as 1 live I'll blefs thy name,
My King, my God of love;
My work and joy fhall be the fame
In the bright world above.
Great is the Lord, his power unknown,
And let his praise be great;
I'll fing the honours of thy throne,
Thy works of grace repeat.
3 Thy grace fhall dwell upon my tongue,
And, while my lips rejoice,
The men that hear my facred fong
Shall join their cheerful voice.
4 Fathers to fons fhall teach thy name,
And children learn thy ways;
Ages to come thy truth proclaim,
And nations found thy praife.
5 Thy glorious deeds of ancient date
Shall through the world be known:
Thine arm of power, thy heavenly ftate,
With public fplendour fhown.
6 The world is manag'd by thy hands;
Thy faints are rul'd by love;
And thine eternal kingdom ftands,
Though rocks and hills remove.
PSALM CXLV. 2d Part. Com. Metre. [*]
Ver. 7, &c. The goodness of God.
WEET is the memory of thy grace,
My God, my heavenly King;
Let age to age thy righteousness
In fongs of glory fing.
2 God reigns on high, but ne'er confines
His goodness to the fkies;
Through the whole earth his bounty fhines,
And every want fupplies.
3 With longing eyes thy creatures wait
On thee for daily food:
Thy liberal hand provides their meat,
Ánd fills their mouths with good.
4 How kind are thy compaffions, Lord!
How flow thine anger moves!
But foon he fends his pardoning word
To cheer the fouls he loves.
5 Creatures, with all their endlefs race,
Thy power and praife proclaim;
But faints, that tafte thy richer grace,
Delight to blefs thy name.
PSALM CXLV. 3d Part. Com. Metre. [*]
Ver. 14, 17, &c. Mercy to fufferers; or, God hearing
'L Thow fotong Lord of all;
ET every tongue thy goodness speak,
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