With joy the mother views her fon,
And tells the wonders God has done:

Faith may grow ftrong when fenfe despairs;
If nature fails, the promise bears.]

PSALM CXIV.

Miracles attending Ifrael's journey.

WHEN

HEN Ifra'l, freed from Pharaoh's hand,
Left the proud tyrant and his land,-
The tribes with chearful homage own
Their King, and Judah was his throne.
2 A-crofs the deep their journey lay;
The deep divides to make them way;
Jordan beheld their march, and fled
With backward current to his head.

3 The mountains fhook like frighted sheep,
Like lambs the little hillocks leap;
Not Sinai on her bafe could ftand,
Confcious of fov'reign pow'r at hand.

4 What pow'r could make the deep divide?
Make Jordan backward roll his tide?
Why did ye leap, ye little hills?
And whence the fright that Sinai feels!
5 Let ev'ry mountain, ev'ry flood
Retire and know th' approaching God,
The King of Ifral fee him here;
Tremble thou earth, adore, and fear.
6 He thunders, and all nature mourns,
The rock to ftanding pools he turns;
Flints fpring with fountains at his word,
And fires and feas confefs the Lord,

PSALM CXV. Firft Metre.

The true God our Refuge; or, Idolatry reprov'd. I [OT to ourfelves who are but dust Not to ourfelves is glory due,

NOT

Eternal God, thou only just,

Thou only gracious, wife and true.
2 Shine forth in all thy dreadful name;
Why should a Heathen's haughty tongue
Infult us, and to raise our fhame,

Say, "Where's the God you've ferv'd fo long!" 3 The God we ferve maintains his throne Above the clouds, beyond the fkies,

Thro' all the earth his will is done,
He knows our groans, he hears our cries.
4 But the vain idols they adore

Are fenfelefs fhapes of ftorie and wood;
At beft a mafs of glitt'ring ore,

A filver faint, or golden god.

5 [With eyes and ears, they carve their head; Deaf are their ears, their eyes are blind; In vain are coftly off'rings made,

And vows are fcatter'd in the wind.

6 Their feet were never made to move,
Nor hands to fave when mortals pay;
Mortals that pay them fear or love,
Seem to be blind and deaf as they.]
7O Ifra'l, make the Lord thy hope,

Thy help, thy refuge and thy reft;
The Lord fhall build thy ruins up,
And bless the people and the priest.
8 The dead no more can fpeak thy praife,
They dwell in filence and the grave;

But we shall live to fing thy grace,

And tell the world thy pow'r to fave.

PSALM CXV. Second Metre. As the new tune of the 50th Pfalm.

Popifb idolatry reproved.

A Pfalm for the 5th of November.

NOT

OT to our names, thou only just and true: Not to our worthlefs names is glory duc: Thy pow'r and grace, thy truth and justice claim Immortal honours to thy fov'reign name.

Shine thro' the earth from heav'n thy bleft abode, Nor let the Heathens fay, And where's your God? Heav'n is thine higher court: There ftands thy throne,

And thro' the lower worlds thy will is done: Our God fram'd all this earth, these heav'ns he fpread,

But fools adore the gods their hands have made; The kneeling croud, with looks devout, behold Their filver-faviours, and their faints of gold.

[Vain are thofe artful shapes of eyes and cars The molten image neither fees nor hears: Their hands are helpless, nor their feet can move, They have no fpeech, nor thought, nor pow'r, nor love;

Yet fottish mortals make their long complaints
To their deaf idols, and their movelcfs faints.

The rich have ftatues well adorn'd with gold;
The poor content with gods of coarfer mould,
With tools of iron carve the fenfeless stock
Lopt from a tree, or broken from a rock:
People and priest drive on the folemn trade,
And trust the gods that faws and hammers made.]

5 Be heav'n and earth amaz'd! 'Tis hard to fay
Which is more ftupid, or their gods, or they.
O Ifra'l, truft the Lord: he hears and fees,
He knows thy forrows, and reftores thy peace:
His worship does a thoufand comforts yield,
He is thy help, and he thine heav'nly shield.
6 O Britain, truft the Lord: Thy foes in vain
Attempt thy ruin, and oppofe his reign;
Had they prevail'd, darkness had clos'd our days
And death and filence had forbid his praise:
But we are fav'd, and live: let fongs arife,
And Britain bless the God that built the fkies.

PSALM CXVI. Firft Part.

Recovery from Sickness.

Love the Lord: he heard my cries,
And pity'd ev'ry groan:
Long as I live, when troubles rife,

I'll haften to his throne.

2 I love the Lord: he bow'd his ear,
And chas'd my griefs away;

O let my heart no more despair,
While I have breath to pray!

3 My flefh declin'd, my fpirits fell,
And I drew near the dead,

While inward pangs, and fears of hell
Perplex'd my wakeful head

4 "My God, I cry'd, thy fervant fave,
"Thou ever good and just;
"Thy pow'r can refcue from the grave,
"Thy pow'r is all my truft..

The Lord beheld me fore distrest,
He bids my pains remove;

1

Return, my foul, to God thy reft,
For thou haft known his love.

6 My God hath fav'd my foul from death,
And dry'd my falling tears:

Now to his praife I'll spend my breath,
And my remaining years.

PSALM CXVI. 12, &c. Second Part.

Vows made in trouble paid in the church; or, Public thanks for private deliverance.

HAT fhall I render to my God
For all his kindness shown!

WH

My feet fhall vifit thine abode,

My fongs addrefs thy throne.

2 Among the faints that fill thine houfe
My off'rings fhall be paid;
There fhall my zeal perform the vows
My foul in anguish made.

3 How much is mercy thy delight,
Thou ever-blessed God!

How dear thy fervants in thy fight!
How precious is their blood!

4 How happy all thy fervants are!
How great thy grace to me!

My life, which thou haft made thy care,
Lord, I devote to thee.

5 Now I am thine, for ever thine,

Nor fhall my purpose move;

Thy hand hath lops'd my bonds of pain,
And bound me with thy love.

6 Hére in thy courts I leave my vow,
And thy rich grace record;