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9 “There's none of all my Sons above

“ So much my Inage, or my Love;
« Celestial Pow'rs thy Subjects are ;
« Then what can Earth to 'Thee compare?
David, my Servant, whom I chose
“ To guard iny Flock, to crush my Foes,
“ And rais’d him to the Jewish Throne;

“ Was but a Shadow of my Son.
11 Now let the Church rejoice and fing

Jesus her Saviour and her KING :
Angels his heav'nly Wonders show,
And Saints declare his Works below.

PSA L M XC. Metre i.


GOD, our Help in Ages past;

Our Hope for Years to come';
Our Shelter from the stormy Blast,

And our eternal Home.
2 Under the Shadow of thy Throne

Thy Saints have dwelt fecure;
Sufficient is thine Arm alone,

And our Defence is sure.
3 Before the Hills in Order stood,

Or Earth receivd her Frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,

To endlefs Years the fame.
4: A Thousand Ages in thy Sight..

Are like an Ev’ning gone.;
Short as the Watch that enrds the Night,
Before the rifing Sun.


5 Time, like an ever-rolling Stream,

Bears all its Sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a Dream

Dies at the op’ning Day.
6 Like flow'ry Fields the Nations ftand,

Pleas'd with the Morning-Light;
The Flow'rs beneath the Mower's Hand

Lie with’ring ere 'tis Night. 7 O God, our Help in Agęs past, Our Hope for Years to c

come ; Be Thou our Guard whilft Life shall last,

And our eternal Home.


8 THOU,LORD, hast weigh’dour ev'ry Fault,

And thine all-searching Eyes : Mark and arrest each guilty Thought

Which veil'd in Darkness lies,
9 Our fleeting Days are swiftly blown

Before thy angry Blast;
Our Years, like empty Tales, are gone,

Which fearce a Moment last.'
10 'Tis but a few whole Days' amount

To threescore Years and ten;
And all beyond that short Account,

Is Sorrow, Toil, and Pain.
u So teach us to compute our Days,

And so our Hearts apply,
That fafely we, through Wifdom's Ways,

May reach Eternity.

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12 Return, O LORD, and grant fome Rest

To all thy Servant's Woes;
Our Hearts, with early Mercies blest,

To holy Joys difpofe !

13 Let Heav'n succeed our painful Years,

Let Sin and Sorrow cease;
And in Proportion to our Tears,

So make our Joys increase.
14 Thy Wonders to thy Servants show;

Make thy own work complete ;
Then shall our Souls thy Glory know,

And own thy Love was great.

PSALM XC. Metre ii.

WHEE, LORD, their Refuge, Thee alone,

Thou, ere the Mountains rose to Birth,
And, while unform'd the Heav'ns and Earth,

For ever God!

2 A Thousand Years to thy Survey

Are as the Hours of Yesterday ;
A Watch in Night one scarce perceives
When presentz--and when absent leaves

No Trace behind,

3 Our Life, with all its Toil and Care,

Diffolves like Vapours in the Air ;
Or as a Phantom of the Night
Glides by the weak, dekuded Sight,

And scarce is seen,

4 Or like the Grass which springs to view,

By Show'rs refresh'd, or early Dew;
Anon, beneath the Mower's Hand,
Swept down, all wither'd ftrows the Land

By closing Day 5 Thine Eyes our inmoft Guilt can read,

Thy Presence on each impious Deed
(That studious shuns the Sight of Day)
Refiftless darts its searching Ray,

Thou JUDGE of All. 6 0 who thy Terrors juftly weighs ?

Who to thy Pow'r submissive pays Proportion'd Homage !--Teach us, Thou, To count Life's Moments as they fow,

And learn to die. PART II. 7 RETURN, O God of Hosts, return! How long thall we thine Absence mourn! Return, and let thy wonted Love Our Sins subdue, our Gricfs remove

With speedieít Aid. 8 O visit with enliv’ning Grace

Thy Servants lab’ring in Distress;
Regard thy Mercy's dear Design,
And raise with Lenity divine

Their fainting Souls. 9 Thy bountcous Goodness, Lord, impart,

And fill with Joy each drooping Heart:
In thine Indulgence may we reít,
Since wretched Man alone is blest

Beneath thy Smile.


10 On Souls devoted to be thine,

And on their Race, through Ages shine ;
Their pious Labours deign to own,
Aid them in doing, and, when done,

Accept and bless.
PSA L M XC. Metre įži.

ORD, Thou haft been thy Children's

All-pow'rful, wise, and good, and just, In ev'ry Age their fafe Abode,

Their Hope, thoir Refuge, and their Trust. 2 Great FATHER OF ETERNITY,

How short are Ages in thy Sight!
A thousand Years how fwift they fly,

Like one short, filent Watch of Night! 3 Uncertain Life, how soon it flies !

Dream of an Hour, how short our Bloom !
Like Spring's gay Verdure now we rise,

Cut down ere Night to fill the Tomb. 4 Teach us to count our short’ning Days,

And with true Diligence apply
Our Hearts to Wisdom's facred Ways,
That we may learn to live and die.

5 WITH Mercy, LORD, revive our Hearts,

And tune our grateful Songs of Praise ;
And let the Joy thy Smile imparts

Enliven all our future Days,
6 O make our facred Pleasures rise,

In sweet Proportion to our Pains,
Till ev’n the fad Remembrance dies,
Nor one uneasy Thought complains.

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