10 His ftorms hall drive you quick to hell; He is a God, and ye but duft:
Happy the fouls that know him well,
And make his grâce their only trust.
PSALM III. (C.M.)
Doubts and fears fuppreft: or, God our defence
From fin and Satan.
■ My God, how many are my fears!
How faft my foes increafe!
Confpiring my eternal death,
They break my prefent peace.
2 The lying tempter would perfuade
There's no relief in heaven;
And all my fwelling fins appear
Too big to be forgiven.
3 But thou, my glory and my strength,
Shalt on the tempter tread,
Shall filence all my threat'ning guilt,
And raise my drooping head.
4 [I cry'd, and from his holy hill
He bow'd a lift'ning ear;
I called my Father and my God,
And he subdu'd my fear.
He med foft flombers on mine eyes,
In fpite of all my foes;
I'woke, and wonder'd at the grace
That guarded my repose.]
6 What tho' the hofts of death and hell
All arm'd against me food,
Terrors no more fhall thake my foul;
My refuge is my God.
7 Arife, O Lord, fulfil thy grace,
While I thy glory fing:
My God hath broke the ferpent's teeth,
And death hath loft his fting..
PSALMV. (C.M.)
For the Lord's day morning.
I LORD, in the morning thou shalt hear
My voice afcending high;
To thee will I direct my pray❜r,
To thee lift up mine eye.
2 Up to the hills where Chrift is gone
To plead for all his faints,
Prefenting at his Father's throne,
Our fongs and our complaints.
3 Thou art a God, before whofe fight
The wicked fhall not ftand;
Sinners fhall ne'er be thy delight,
Nor dwell at thy right hand.
4 But to thy houfe will I refort,
To tafte thy mercies 'there;
I will frequent thine holy court,
And worship in thy fear.
5 O may thy spirit guide my feet
In ways of righteousness!
Make ev'ry path of duty straight
And plain before my feet,
My watchful enemies.combine
To tempt my feet aftray:
They flatter with a bafe defign
To make my foul their prey.
7 Lord, crush the ferpent in the dust,
And all his plots destroy;
While thofe that in thy mercy truft,
For ever fhout for joy.
The men that love and fear thy name,
Shall fee their hopes fulfill'd;
The mighty God will compafs them
With favour as a fhield.
PSALM VI. (C.M.)
Complaint in fickness: or, diseases bealed.
IN anger, Lord, rebuke me not,
Withdraw the dreadful storm;
Nor let thy fury grow fo hot
Against a feeble worm.
2 My foul's bow'd down with heavy cares,
My flesh with pain oppreft;
My couch is witness to my tears,
My tears forbid my reft.
3 Sorrow and pain wear out my days;
I waste the night with cries;
Counting the minutes as they pass,
Till the flow morning rife.
4 Shall I be ftill tormented more?
My eyes confum'd with grief?
How long, my God, how long before
Thine hand affords relief?
5 He hears when duft and ashes speak,
He pities all our groans;
He faves us for his mercy's fake,
And heals our broken bones.
6 The virtue of his fov'reign word
Reftores our fainting breath;
For filent graves praife not the Lord,
Nor is he known in death.
PSALM VI. (L.M.)
Temptation in fickness overcome.
1 LORD, I can suffer thy rebukes,
When thou with kindness doft chastife;
But thy fierce wrath I cannot bear,
O let it not against me rife.
When to thy works on high,
I raise my wond'ring eyes,
And fee the moon, complete in light,
Adorn the darkfome fkies.
When I furvey the ftars,
And all their fhining forms;
Lord, what is man! that worthlefs thing,
Akin to duft and worms.
4 Lord, what is worthlefs man!
That thou fhould't love him fo?
Next to thine angels is he plac'd,
And lord of all below.
5 Thy honours crown his head,
While beafts like flaves obey,
And birds that cut the air with wings,
And fish that cleave the fea.
6 How rich thy bounties are !
And wond'rous are thy ways:
Of duft and worms thy pow'r can frame
A monument of praife.
7 [Out of the mouths of babes
And fucklings, thou canst draw. Surprifing honours to thy name, And ftrike the world with awe.
8 O Lord, our heav'nly King,
Thy name is all divine;
Thy glories round the earth are spread,
And o'er the heav'ns they fhine.]
rift's condefcenfien and glorification: or, God
LORD, our God, How' wondrous great
Is thine exalted name!
The glories of thy heav'nly ftate
Let men and babes proclaim.
2 When I behold thy works on high,
The moon that rules the night,
And ftars that well adorn the sky,
Those moving worlds of light:
3 Lord, what is man, or all his race,
Who dwells fo far below,
That thou fhould'ft vifit him with grace,
And love his nature fo?
4 That thine eternal Son fhould bear
To take a mortal form,
Made lower than his angels are,
To fave a dying worm!
5 [Yet while he liv'd on earth unknown, And men would not adore;
Th' obedient feas and fishes own
His Godhead and his pow'r.
6 The waves lay fpread beneath his feet,
And fish at his command
Bring their large fhoals to Peter's net,
And tribute to his hand.
7 Thefe leffer glories of thy Son
Shone thro' the fleshly cloud :
Now we behold him on his throne,
And men confefs him God.]
8 Let him be crown'd with majefty,
Who bow'd his head to death;
And be his honours founded high,"
By all things that have breath.
9 Jefus, our Lord, how wond'rous gree
Is thine exalted name!
The glories of thy heav'nly state
Let the whole earth proclaim.
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