2- [Behold the islands with their kings,
And Europe her best tribute brings;
From North to South the princes meet
To pay their homage at his feet.
3 There Perfia, glorious to behold,
There India fhines in Eastern gold;
And barbarous nations at his word
Submit, and bow and own their Lord.
4 For him fhall endless pray'r be made,
And praises throng to crown his head;
His name like fweet perfume fhall rife
With ev'ry morning facrifice.

5 People and realms of every tongue
Dwell on his love with fweeteft fong;
And infant voices fhall proclaim
Their early bleffings on his name.
6 Bleffings abound where'er he reigns,
The prifoner leaps to lose his chains;
The weary find eternal reft,

And all the ions of want are bleft.

7 [Where he difplays his healing power,
Death and the curfe are known no more
In him the tribes of Adam boast
More bleffings than their father lost.

8 Let ev'ry creature rife and bring,
Peculiar honours to the King;
Angels defcend with fongs again,
And earth repeat the long Amen.]

PSALM LXXIII. Firft Part. Common Metre. Afflicted Saints happy, and profperous Sinners curfed OW I'm convinc'd, the Lord is kind

To men of heart fincere;

Yet once my foolish thoughts repin'd,
And border'd on defpair.

2 I griev'd to fee the wicked thrive,
And fpoke with angry breath,
"How pleafant and profane they live!
"How peaceful is their death!
"With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes
hey lay their fears to fleep;
Against the heav'ns their flanders rife,
"While faints in filence weep.

3

4

66

"In vain I lift my hands to pray, "And cleanse my heart in vain, "For I am chaften'd all the day, "The night renews my pain.”

5 Yet while my tongue indulg'd complaints, 1 felt my heart reprove; "Sure I shall thus offend thy faints, "And grieve the men I love."

6 But ftill I found my doubts too hard,
The conflict too severe,

Till I retir'd to fearch thy word,
And learn thy fecrets there.

7 There, as in fome prophetic glass,
I faw the finner's feet

High mounted on a flippery place
Befide a fiery pit.

8 I heard the wretch prophanely boast,
Till at thy frown he fell;

His honours in a dream were loft,
And he awakes in hell.

9 Lord, what an envious fool I was!
How like a thoughtless beaft!

Thus to fufpect thy promis'd grace,
And think the wicked bleft.

Io Yet I was kept from full despair,
Upheld by power unknown:

I

That bleffed hand that broke the fnare,
Shall guide me to thy throne.

PSALM LXXIII. 23-28. Second part. Common Metre.

God our portion here and hereafter.

G

OD, my fupporter, and my hope,
I My help for ever near:

Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When finking in defpair.

2 Thy counfels, Lord, fhall guide my feet,
Thro' this dark wilderness;

Thine hand conduct me near thy feat,
To dwell before thy face.

3 Were I in heav'n without my God,
'Twould be no joy to me;

And whilft this earth is my abode,
I long for none but thee.

4 What if the fprings of life were broke,
And flesh and heart should faint,

God is my foul's eternal rock,

The ftrength of ev'ry faint.

5 Behold, the finners that remove
Far from thy presence die;
Not all the idol-gods they love,
Can fave them when they cry.

6 But to draw near to thee, my God,
Shall be my fweet employ;

My tongue shall found thy works abroad,
And tell the world my joy.

PSALM LXXIII. 22, 3, 6, 17-20. Long Metre
The profperity of finners curfed.

'L

ORD, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn and murmur and repine, To fee the wicked plac'd on high,, In pride and robes of honour fhine! 2 But, O their end, their dreadful end! Thy fanctuary taught me fo:

3

On flipp'ry rocks I see them ftand,
And fiery billows roll below.

Now let them boast how tall they rife,
I'll never envy them again,

There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.
4 Their fancy'd joys, how fast they flee!
Juft like a dream when men awakes;
Their fongs of fofteft harmony,
Are but a preface to their plagues.
5 Now I efteem their mirth and wine,
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord, 'ris enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God.

PSALM LXXIII. Short Metre.
The mystery of providence unfolded.
IURE there's a righteous God,
Nor is religion vain:

S

Tho' men of vice may boaft aloud,
And men of grace complain.

2 I faw the wicked rife,
And felt my heart repine,

While haughty fools with fcornful eyes,
In robes of honour shine.

3 [Pamper'd with wanton ease,
Their flesh looks full and fair,
Their wealth rolls in like flowing feas,
And grows without their care.
4 Free from the plagues and pains
That pious fouls endure,
Thro' all their life oppreffion reigns,
And racks the humble poor.

5 Their impious tongues blafpheme
The everlafting God:

Their malice blafts the good man's name, And spreads their lies abroad.

6 But I with flowing tears
Indulg'd my doubts to rife;
Is there a God that fees or hears
"The things below the fkies?"]
7 The tumults of my thought
Held me in hard fufpence,

Till to thy house my feet were brought,
To learn thy juftice thence.

8 Thy word with light and pow'r
Did my mistakes amend;

I view'd the finners life before,
But here I learn'd their end,
9 On what a flipp'ry.steep
The thoughtlefs wretches go
And O that dreadful fiery deep,

That waits their fall below!

30 Lord, at thy feet I bow,

My thoughts no more repine;