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PSA L M XLII. Metre iii.

S the poor Hart, tir'd in the Chace,

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So pants my Soul for Streams of Grace,

Thy cheering Visits, O my God, 2 For God my thirsty Spirit longs,

The sacred Spring of living Joy;
When shall I come with thankful Songs,

Before my God?-Divine Employ! 3 Thro' the fad Night and mournful Day,

My Aowing Tears have been my Food;
While taunting Foes continual say,

“ And where is now thy Saviour God?" 4. Yet will the LORD command his Care, [Eyes ;

His Love (sweet Morn!) shall cheer mine
And, mix'd with Praise, my nightly Pray'r,

God of my Life, to Thee ihali rife.
5 Whiy finks my fainting Spirit down?

Why do my reflets Pafions mourn?
What, tho' my God a Moment frown,

His blissful Smile will yet return.
6 Then shall I spread his Pow'r abroad,

His Smile my drooping Hope shall raise ;
My Light, my Health, my Saviour God,
Shall change my Sighs to Songs of Praise.

PSA L M XLIII.
UST JUDGE of Heav'n, against my Foes
Do Thou assert my injur'd Right :

:
O fet me free, my God, from those
That in Deceit and Wrong delight.

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2 Let me with Light and Truth be blest,

Be Thou my Guide, and lead the Way,
Till on thy holy Hill I reit,

And in thy facred Temple pray.
3 Then will I there fresh Altars raise

To God, who is my only Joy;
And well-tun’d Harps with Songs of Praise

Shall all my grateful Hours employ:
4 Why then cast down, my Soul, and why

So much oppress'd with anxious Care?
On God, thy God; for Aid rely,
Who will thy ruin'd.State repair.

PSA L M XLIV.
ORD, we have heard thy Works of old,

Thy Works of Pow'r and Grace,
When to our Ears our Father's told ::

The Wonders of their Days. : 57
2 How Thou didst build thy Churches here, &

And make thy Gospel known;
Among them did thine Armi appear,

Thy Light and Glory shonc. is not
3
In God they boasted all the Day, *17.

And, in a cheerful Throng,
Did Thousands meet to praife and pray,

And Grace' was all their Song.
4. But now, chastiz'd by Thee, we stând

A Proverb to our Foes;
While fierce Derision claps the Hand,

And triumphs in our Woes.

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5 Awake, arise, Almighty LORD!

Why sleeps thy wonted Grace?
Why should we look like Men abhorr'dy

Or banish'd from thy Face ?
6 Redeem us from perpetual Shame,

Our Saviour and our God;
We plead the Honours of thy Name,

The Merits of thy Blood.

PSALM XLV. Metre i,

M'Some godly Song to fing;

Y Heart doth take in Hand

Some
The Praife that I fhall thew therein,

Pertaineth to the KING.
My Tongue shall be as quick

His Honour to indite,
As is the Pen of any Scribe

That ureth fast to write. 3

fairest of all Men! Thy Lips with Grace are pure ; For God hath blefled Thee with Gifts

For ever to endure. 4

About Thee gird thy Sword,

O PRINCE of Might elect!
With Honour, Glory, and Renown,

Thou art most richly deckt. 5 Go forth with godly Speed,

With Meckness, Truth, and Right ; And thy right Hand shall Thee instruct,

In Works of dreadful Might,

6 Thy Arrows sharp and keen

Their Hearts fo fore shall sting,
That they shall crouch and kneel to Thee,

Yea, all thy Foes, O KING. 7 Thy royal Seat, O LORD,

For ever shall remain ;
Because the Sceptre of thy Realm

Doth Righteousness maintain. 8 Wherefore thy holy Name

All Ages shall record ;
The People shall give Thanks to Thee

For evermore, O LORD.

PSA L M XLV. Metre ii.

ELSOLE is by a bleffed Thoughts

My Soul the Wing
I speak, as by the SPIRIT taught,

The Praise of CHRIST my King. 2 My Lips are eager, and delight

Glad Tidings to impart,
As is the Pen of them that write

With equal Ease and Art.
3 Thy Form is fairer than the Race

Of Men from Adam sprung; And God has giv'n eternal Grace

To thy persuasive Tongue. 4 Ride on, Thou Prince of wondrous Might

Gird on thy dreadful Sword !
With Majesty, and glorious Light,
And 'TRUTH's all-conqu’ring Word,

5 Thy Throne, O God, for ever ftands;

Thy. Word of Grace shall prove A peaceful Sceptre in thy Hands,

To rule, thy Saints by Love.
6 Justice and Truth attend Thee ftill,

But Mercy is thy Choice ;
And God, thy God, thy Soul shall fill

With most peculiar Joys.

PS A L M XLV. - Metre iii.

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OW be

my

Heart inspir’d to fing
The Glories of

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SAVIOUR-KING, Jesus the LORD; how heav'nly fair

His Form!-How bright his Beauties are ! 2 O'er all the Sons of human Race

He shines with a superior Grace ;
Love from his Lips divinely flows,

And Blessings all his State compose.
3 Dress Thee in Arms, most mighty LORD,

Gird on the Terror of thy Sword!
In Majesty and Glory ride,

With Truth and Meekness at thy Side ! 4 Thine Anger, like a pointed Dart,

Shall pierce the Foes of stubborn Heart:
Or Words of Mercy kind and sweet

Shall melt the Rebels at thy Feet.
5 Thy Throne, O God, for ever stands,

Grace is the Sceptre in thy Hands;
Thy Laws and Works are just and right,
Justice and Grace are thy Delight.

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