To all the list'ning world thy works, 2 The thoughts of them shall to my soul While to thy name, O thou Most High, Triumphant praise I sing. 3 God is a constant sure defence As troubles rise, his needful aids 4 All those who have his goodness prov'd, Prayer heard, Saints saved, and Oppressors punished. 1 WHY doth the Lord stand off so far, And why conceal his face, When great calamities appear, 2 Lord, shall the wicked still deride. Shall they advance their heads in pride, And still thy saints devour? 3 They put thy judgments from their sight, 4 Arise, O God, lift up thine hand; PSALM XI. L. M. The awful Prospect of the Wicked from the Righteous 1 THE Lord in heav'n has fix'd his throne, 2 If he afflicts his saints so far, To prove their love, and try their grace, What may the bold transgressors fear? His very soul abhors their ways. 3 On impious wretches he shall rain Tempests of brimstone, fire, and death, Such as he kindled on the plain Of Sodom with his angry breath. 4 The righteous Lord loves righteous souls, Whose thoughts and actions are sincere: And with a gracious eye Leholds PSALM XII. C. M. God the Help of his People in evil and corrupt Times. 2 Is not thy chariot hast'ning on? 3 Yes,' saith the Lord, now will I rise, And make oppressors flee; 'I shall appear to their surprise, And set my servants free.' 4 Thy word, like silver sev'n times try'd, Through ages shall endure: The men that in thy truth confide, Pleading with God under Desertion; or, Hope 1 HOW long wilt thou conceal thy face, My God, how long delay? When shall I feel those heav'nly rays 2 Be thou my Sun, and thou my Shield, Make haste before mine eyes are seal'd 3 Thou wilt display that sov'reign grace, The general Corruption of the World-a Prayer for God's Salvation. 1 TH' Eternal Monarch from on high, If haply some he yet might see, 2 He look'd, but ah! not one could find 3 O mighty Lord, to Isr'el's eyes Religion and Justice, Goodness and Truth. 2 Whose hands are pure, whose heart is clean, 3 He loves his enemies, and prays For those that curse him to his face; 4 Yet when his holiest works are done, Gratitude for spiritual Privileges. 1 MY lot is fall'n in that blest land, He fills my cup with lib'ral hand, |