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6 God, thine own God, has richly shed
His Oil of Gladness on thy Head,
7 THE KING of Saints, how fair his Face,
Adorn'd with Majesty and Grace !
And wins the Nations to his Love, 8 At his right Hand our Eyes behold
The Queen array'd in purest Gold ;
Her Robe of Joy and Righteousness. 9
He forms her Beauties like his own,
The Idols of thy native State.
In thee, the Fav'rite of his Choice;
For He's thy Maker and thy LORD.
To his fair Palace in the Skies!
Each like a Prince in Glory reign! 12 Let endless Honours crown his Head
PSALM XLVI. Metre i.
the Refuge of his Saints
Ere we can offer our Complaints,
Behold Him present with his Aid.
Down to the Deep, and bury'd there :
Our Faith shall never yield to Fear. 3
Loud may the troubled Ocean roar,
; While ev'ry Nation, ev'ry Shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling Tide. 4. There is a Stream, whose gentle Flow
Supplies the City of our God:
And wat'ring our divine Abode.
That all our raging Fear controls:
And give new Strength to fainting Souls. 6 Sion enjoys her MONARCH's Love,
Secure against a threat'ning Hour;
Though Tyrants rage, and Kingdoms rise ;
8 The Lord of old for facab fought ;
And Yacob's God is still our Aid;
What Desolation He has made !
He makes the Noise of Battle cease :
He awes the trembling World to Peace. 10 He breaks the Bow, He cuts the Spear;
Chariots He burns with heav'nly Flame :
The Sound and Glory of his Name!
« I'll be exalted o'er the Lands;
« But still my Throne in Sion stands." 12 O LORD of Hofts, Almighty KING!
While we fo near thy Prefence dwell,
PSA L M XLVI.
OD is our Refuge in Distress,
In Him undaunted we'll confide:
Torn piece-meal by the roaring Tide.. 2 A gentler Stream with Gladnefs still The City of our LORD shall fill,
The royal Seat of God most high:
God dwells in Sion, whose fair Tow'rs
While his Almighty Aid is nigh. 3
In Tumults when the Heathen rag'd,
He thunder'd and difpers'd their Pow'rs:
PSA L M XLVII.
"To God the Sov'reign King!
And Hymns of Triumph fing.
His heav'nly Guards around
With Trumpet's joyful Sound. 3 While Angels thout and praise their King,
Let Mortals learn their Strains ; Let all the Earth his Honours sing ;
O'er all the Earth He reigns.
Let Knowledge lead the Song,
T 5 In Israel stood his ancient Throne,
He lov'd that chofen Race ; But now he calls the World his
own, And Heathen's taste his Grace,
5 The Britisi Islands are the Lord's,
There Abrham's God is known,
Submit before his Throne. [Swords,
PSALM XLVIII. Metre i.
G And let his Praise be great
He makes his Churches this Abode,
His most delightful Seat.
How beautiful they stand!
And Bulwarks of our Land. 3
In Sion God is known !!
A Refuge in Distress;
Through all her Palaces !
And saw the LORD was there : In wild Confusion of the Mind
They fled with trembling Fear. 5 When Navies, tall and proud,
Attempt to spoil our Peace;
And finks them in the Seas. 6 Oft have our Fathers told,
Our Eyes have often seen,
Where his own Sheep have been.