XCII.
2 Sweet is the Day of facred Reft;
No mortal Cares fhall feize my Breaft:
O may my Heart in Tune be found,
Like David's Harp of folemn Sound!
3 My Heart fhall triumph in my LORD,
And blefs his Works, and blefs his Word:
Thy Works of Grace, how bright they fhine!
How deep thy Counfels! How divine!
4 Fools never raife their Thoughts fo high;
Like Brutes they live, like Brutes they die;
Like Grafs they flourish, till thy Breath
Blaft them in everlasting Death.
5 But I fhall fhare a glorious Part
When Grace hath well refin'd my Heart,,
And fresh Supplies of Joy are fhed,
Like holy Oil, to cheer my Head..
6 Sin (my worst Enemy before)
Shall vex my Eyes and Ears no more:
My inward Foes fhall all be flain,
Nor Satan break my Peace again.
7 Then fhall I fee, and hear, and know,,
All I defir'd or with'd below;
And ev'ry Pow'r find fweet Employ
In that eternal World of Joy.
8 LORD, 'tis a pleafant Thing to ftand
In Gardens planted by thine Hand;
Let me within thy Courts be seen.
Like a young Cedar, fresh and green..
9 There grow thy Saints in Faith and Love,
Bleft with thine Influence from above;
Not Lebanon, with all its Trees,
Yields fuch a comely Sight as thefe.
10 The Plants of Grace fhall ever live
(Nature decays, but Grace maft thrive)
Time, that doth all Things elfe impair,
Still makes them flourish ftrong and fair.
II Laden with Fruits of Age, they fhew
The Lord is Holy, Juft, and True:
None that attend his Gates shall find
A GOD' unfaithful or unkind..
7ITH Glory clad, with Strength
array'd,
The LORD that o'er all Nature reigns;
The World's Foundation ftrongly laid,
And the vaft Fabrick ftill fuftains.
2 How fure establish'd is thy Throne!
Which fhall no Change or Period see ;
For Thou, O LORD, and Thou alone,
Art God from all Eternity.
3 The fwelling Floods tumultuous rise,
Aloud the angry Tempests roar,
Lift their proud Billows to the Skies,.
And foam and lafh the trembling Shore.
4 The LORD, the mighty GoD on high,.
Controls the fiercely raging Seas;
He fpeaks!-and Noife and Tempeft fly,
The Waves fink down in gentle Peace.
5 Thy fov'reign Laws are ever sure, Eternal Holinefs is Thine;
And, LORD, thy People fhould be pure,And in thy bleft Refemblance fhine.
HE LORD JEHOVAH reigns,
And royal State maintains,
His Head with awful Glories crown'd:
Array'd in Robes of Light,
Begirt with fov'reign Might,
And Rays of Majefty around.
Upheld by thy Commands,
The World fecurely ftands;
And Skies and Stars obey thy Word:
Thy Throne was fix'd on high,
Before the ftarry Sky;
Eternal is thy Kingdom, LORD..
In vain the noify Crowd,
Like Billows fierce and loud,
Against thine Empire rage and roar:
In vain with angry Spite,
The furious Nations fight,
And dash like Waves against the Shore.
Let Floods and Nations rage,
And all their Pow'rs engage;
Let fwelling Tides affault the Sky;
The Terrors of thy Frown.
Shall beat their Madnefs down;
Thy Throne for ever ftands on high.
5 Thy Promises are true,
Thy Grace is ever new:
There fix'd thy Church fhall ne'er remove: Thy Saints with holy Fear
Shall in thy Courts appear,
And fing thine everlasting Love.
HE LORD th' eternal Sceptre rears,
And Nature's Pow'r obfervant hears
Whate'er his Will enjoins:
His Head with pureft Splendour crown'd,
With Majefty he vefts Him round,
And girds with Strength his Loins.
2 Encircled by th' ethereal Space,
And fix'd by Him on firmeft Bafe,
The Earth's vaft Orb appears :-
From earliest Age, great GoD, thy Throne
Aloft in Heav'n prepar'd has fhone,
Nor measures Time thy Years.
3 A Scene of Horror ftrikes my Eyes!
The Floods, my GoD, the Floods arife,
And lift their Voice on high!
What Pow'r fhall curb the headlong Tide?
What bid the fwelling Waves fubfide,
And clear the ftormy Sky?
4 Thee, o'er all Height exalted,-Thee
The Deeps revere ;-at thy Decree
The Waves their Rage refign:
Fix'd are the Laws by Thee ordain'd;
And Truth and Sanctity unitain'd
Adorn thy awful Shrine.
GOD, to whom Revenge belongs,
Proclaim thy Wrath aloud;
Let fov'reign Pow'r redrefs our Wrongs,
Let Juftice fmite the Proud.
2 They fay, "The LORD nor fees nor hears ;" When will the Fools be wife!
Can HE be deaf, who form'd their Ears?
Or blind, who made their Eyes?
He knows their impious Thoughts are vain,
And they shall feel his Pow'r;
His Wrath hall pierce their Souls with Pain,
In fome surprising Hour.
But if thy Saints deserve Rebuke,
Thou haft a gentler Rod;.
Thy Providences and thy Book
Shall make them know their God.
Bleft is the Man thy Hands chaftise,
And to his Duty draw:
Thy Scourges make thy Children wife,
When they forget thy Law.
6 But God will ne'er caft off his Saints,.
Nor his own Promise break;
He pardons his Inheritance,
For their REDEEMER'S Sake.
7 WHO will arife and plead my RightAgainft my num'rous Foes,
While Earth and Hell their Force unite, And all my Hopes oppofe?
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