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5 The Wretch that meditates Deceit

I'll not endure a Night!
The Liar's Tongue I ever hate,

And banish from my sight. 6 I'll purge my Family around,

And make the Wicked fee ! So shall my House be ever found A Dwelling meet for Thee.



H hide thy Face,

But answer, left I die : Haft Thou not built a Throne of Grace,

To hear when Sinners cry?
2 My Days are wasted like the Smoke

Diffolving in the Air:
My Strength is dry’d, my Heart is broke,

And sinking in Despair.
3 So walks the Pelican distreft,

The Bird of Night so shrieks :
So the fad Sparrow, from his Nest,

His loft Companion feeks..
Sense can afford no real Joy

To Souls that feel thy Frown;
LORD, 'twas thy Hand advanc'd me high,

Thy Hand hath cast me down. 5 I like a wither'd Leaf appear ;

And Life's declining Light
Grows faint as Ev’ning Shadows are,

That vanish into Night.

6 But Thou for ever art the same,

O my eternal God;
Ages to come shall know thy Name;

And spread thy Works abroad.
7 Thou wilt arise, and shew thy Face;

Nor will my LORD delay
Beyond th' appointed Hour of Grace,

That long-expected Day.
8 He hears his Saints, He knows their Cry,

And by mysterious Ways Redeems the Pris'ners doom'd to die,

And fills their Tongues with Praise.


9 LET Zion and her Sons rejoice,

Behold the promis's Hour :
Her God hath heard her mourning Voice,

And comes t'exalt his Pow'r. 10 Her Duft and Ruins that remain

Are precious in our Eyes ;
Those Ruins shall be built again,

And all that Dust shall rise.
11 The Lord will raise Jerusalem,

And stand in Glory there;
Nations shall bow before his Name,

And Kings-attend with Fear.
12 He fits a Sou'reign on his Throne,

With Pity in his: Eyes :
He hears the dying Pris'ners groan,

And sees their Sighs arise.

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13 He frees the Souls condemn'd to Death,

And when his Saints complain, 'Twill ne'er be faid, “ That praying Breath

“ Was ever spent in vain.” 14 This shall be known when we are dead,

And left on long Record,
That Ages yet unborn may read,

And trust and praise the LORD.


15 IT is the LORD our SAVIOUR's Hand

Weakens our Strength amidst the Race;
Disease and Death at his Command

US, and cut short our Days. 16 Spare uś, O LORD, aloud we pray,

Nor let our Sun go down at Noon;
Thy Years are one eternal Day,

And must thy Children die so soon!
17 Yet in the Midst of Death and Grief,

This Thought our Sorrow shall assuage ; « Our FATHER and our Saviour live;

“ Christ is the same through ev'ry Age.' 18 'Twas He this Earth's Foundation laid ;

Heav'n is the Building of his Hand; [fade,
This Earth grows old, these Heav'ns fhalí

And all be chang'd at his Command. 19 The Atarry Curtains of the Sky,

Like Garments, shall be laid aside ;
But ftill thy Throne ftands firm and high;
Thy Church for ever muft abidę.



20 Before thy Face thy Church shall live,

And on thy. Throne thy. Children reign;
This dying World shall they survive,
And the dead Saints be rais'd again..

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PSA L M CIII. Metre i,

BLESS the LORD, my Soul !

Let all within me join,
And aid my Tongue to bless his Name,

Whose Favours are divine.
2 O bless the LORD, my Soul !

Nor let his Mercies lie
Forgotten in Unthankfulness;

And without Praises die.
3 'Tis He forgives thy Sins,

'Tis He relieves thy Pain,
'Tis He who heals thy Sicknesses,

And makes thee young again.

He crowns thy Life with Love,

When ransom'd from the Grave;
He that redeem'd my Soul from Hell,

Hath foy'reign Pow's to fave.

He fills the Poor with Good;

He gives the Suff'rers Reft;
The Lord hath Judgments for the Proud,

And Justice for th’ Opprest.
6 His wondrous Works and Ways

He made by Mofes known;
But fent the World his Truth and Grace,
By his beloved Son.

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MY Soul repeat his Praise,
Whose Mercies are so

great ;
Whose Anger is so flow to rise,

So ready to abate.
8 God will not always chide ;

And when his Strokes are felt,
His Strokes are fewer than our Crimes,

And lighter than our Guilt.
9 High as the Heav'ns are rais'd

Above the Ground we tread,
So far the Riches of his Grace

Our highest Thoughts exceed.
His Pow'r subdues our Sins,

And his forgiving Love
Far as the East is from the Welt,

Doth all our Guilt remove.
II The Pity of the LORD

To those that fear his Name,
Is such as tender Parents feel ;

He knows our feeble Frame..
He knows we are but Dust

Scatter'd with ev'ry Breath;
His Anger, like a rising Wind,

Can send us swift to Death! 13

Our Days are as the Grass,

Or like the Morning-Flower :
If one sharp Blast sweep o'er the Field,

It withers in an Hour,


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