PSALM XLII. Metre iii. A S the poor Hart, tir'd in the Chace, Pants for the cool, refreshing Flood, So pants my Soul for Streams of Grace, Thy cheering Visits, O my God. 2 For GOD my thirfty Spirit longs, 3 Thro' the fad Night and mournful Day, 4 Yet will the LORD command his Care, [Eyes; 5 Why finks my fainting Spirit down? 6 Then fhall I fpread his Pow'r abroad, I PSALM XLIII. [UST JUDGE of Heav'n, against my Foes JUST O fet me free, my GoD, from those 2 Let me with Light and Truth be bleft, Be Thou my Guide, and lead the Way, Till on thy holy Hill I reft, And in thy facred Temple prayed 1 3 Then will I there fresh Altars raife To GOD, who is my only Joy; And well-tun'd Harps with Songs of Praife Shall all my grateful Hours employ.” • 4 Why then caft down, my Soul, and why So much opprefs'd with anxious Care? On GOD, thy God, for Aid rely, Who will thy ruin'd State repair. L LORD, we have heard thy Works of old, Thy Works of Pow'r and Grace, When to our Ears our Fathers told A 2 How Thou didst build thy Churches here, & 3 In GOD they boafted all the Day, Did Thousands meet to praife and pray, 4 But now, chaftiz'd by Thee, we stand While fierce Derifion claps the: Hand, 5 Awake, arife, Almighty LORD! 6 Redeem us from perpetual Shame, I PSALM XLV. Metre i. M Y Heart doth take in Hand My Tongue fhall be as quick As is the Pen of any Scribe 3. O faireft of all Men! 4 5 Thy Lips with Grace are pure; For God hath bleffed Thee with Gifts About Thee gird thy Sword, O PRINCE of Might elect! With Honour, Glory, and Renown, Thou art moft richly deckt. Go forth with godly Speed, With Meekness, Truth, and Right; And thy right Hand fhall Thee instruct, In Works of dreadful Might. 6 Thy Arrows sharp and keen That they fhall crouch and kneel to Thee, 7 Thy royal Seat, O LORD, For ever fhall remain ; 8 I Because the Sceptre of thy Realm Wherefore thy holy Name All Ages fhall record; The People shall give Thanks to Thee PSALM XLV. Metre ii. EXALTED by a bleffed Thought, My Soul is on the Wing; I fpeak, as by the SPIRIT taught, 2 My Lips are eager, and delight As is the Pen of them that write 3 Thy Form is fairer than the Race 4 Ride on, Thou PRINCE of wondrous Might Gird on thy dreadful Sword! With Majefty, and glorious Light, 5 Thy Throne, O God, for ever stands; 6 Justice and Truth attend Thee still, PSALM XLV. Metre iii. NOW be my Heart infpir'd to fing The Glories of my SAVIOUR-KING, 2 O'er all the Sons of human Race 3 Dress Thee in Arms, moft mighty LORD, With Truth and Meeknefs at thy Side! 4 Thine Anger, like a pointed Dart, 5 Thy Throne, O God, for ever stands, |