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A Song for the fifth of November.
AD not the Lord, may Ifrael say,

Had not the Lord maintain'd our fide,
When men, to make our lives a prey,

Rose like the swelling of the tide;
2 The swelling tide had stopt our breath,

So fiercely did the waters roll,
We had been swallow'd deep in death;

Proud waters had o'er whelm'd our soul. 3 We leap for joy, we shout and sing

Who just escap'd the fatal stroke;
So flies the bird with chearful wing,

When once the fowler's snare is broke. 4 For ever blessed be the Lord,

Who broke the fowler's cursed snare,
Who fav'd us from the murd'ring sword,

And made our lives and fouls his care. 5 Our help is in Jehovah's came,

Who form'd the earth, and built the skies;
He that upholds that wond'rous frame,
Guards his own church with watchful


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PSALM CXXV. Common Metre.

The saint's trial and safety,
INSHAKEN as the sacred hill,

And firm as mountains be,
Firm as a rock the foul shall rest

That leans, O Lord, on thee. 2 Not walls nor hills, could guard so well

Old Salem's happy ground, As those eternal arms of love

That ev'ry faint surround.



3. While tyrants are a smarting fcourge

To drive them near to God,
Divine compassion does allay

The fury of the rod.
4 Deal gently, Lord, with fouls fincere,

And lead them safely on
To the bright gates of paradise,

Where Chrift their Lord is gone. 5 But if we trace those crooked ways.

That the old serpent drew,
The wrath that drove him first to hell

Shall smite his followers too.


PSALM CXXV. Short Metre.

The faints trial and safety: or, Moderated afflictionso

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1 TIRM and unmov'd are they

That reft their fouls on God; Firm as the mount where David dwelt,

Or where the ark abode. 2 As mountains stood to guard

The city's facred ground, So God and his almighty love

Embrace his faints around.
3. What tho' the Father's rod

Drop a chastizing Itroke,
Yet left it wonad their souls too deep,

Its fury shall be broke.
4 Deal gently, Lord, with those

Whole faith and pious fear, Whole hope and love, and ev'ry grace

Proclaim their hearts fipcere.

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WHEN God reftor'd our captive state,

5 Nor shall the tyrant's rage

Too long oppress the saint; The God of Isra'l will support;

His children, left they faint, 6 But if our flavish fear

Will chuse the road to hell,
We must expect our portion there,

Where bolder finners dwell.
PSALM CXXVI. Long Metre,

Surprizing deliverance. 1

Joy was our fong, and grace our theme; The grace beyond our hopes fo great,

That joy appear'd a painted dream.
2 The scoffer owns thy hand, and pays

Uowilling honours to thy name;
While we with pleasure thout thy praise,

With chearful notes thy love proclaim. 3 When we review our dismal fears,

'Twas hard to think they'd vanish foy
With God we left our flowing tears,

He makes our joys like rivers flow. 4 The man that in his furrow'd field,

His fcatter'd feed with sadness leaves,
Will shout to see the harvest yield
A welcome load of joyful (heaves.

PSALM CXXVI. Common Metre.
The joy of a remarkable conversion; or, Melancholy

'HEN God reveal'd his gracious name,

And chang’d my mournfal state,
My rapture seem'd a pleasing dream,

The grace appear'd lo great,

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2 The world beheld the glorious change,

And did thy hand confeis;
My tongue broke out in unknown straips,

And lung surprizing grace. 3 “ Great is the work.” my neighbours cry'd,

And own'd the pow'r divine;
“ Great is the work,” my heart reply'd,

“And be the glory thine.”
4 The Lord can clear the darkest skies,

Can give us day for night;
Make drops of sacred forrow rise

To rivers of delight.
5 Let those that sow in sadness wait

Till the tair harvest come,
They shall confess their leaves are great,

And thout the blessings home.
6 Tho feed lye bury'd loogin dust,

It shan't deceive their hope!
The precious grain can ne'er be lost,

For grace iniures the crop.



The bleling of God on the business and comforts of

life. F God


I and pains to build the houle are lost;

If God the city will not keep,

The watchful guards as well may neep. 2 What if you rise before the sun,

And work and toil when day is done,
Careful and 1paring eat your bread,
To thun that poverty you dread.

3 'Tis all in vain, till God hath bleft;

He can make rich, yet give us reft:
Children and friends are blessings too,

If God our lov'reign make them fo. 4 Happy the man to whom he fends

Obedient children, faithful friends :
How sweet our daily comforts

prove When they are feason’d with his love! PSALM CXXVII. Common Metre.

God all in all,
1 F God to build the house deny,

The builders work in vain ;
And towns without his wakeful eye,

An useless watch maintain.
2 Before the morning-beams arise,

Your painful work renew,
And till the stars ascend the skies

Your tiresome toil pursue. 3 Short be your sleep, and coarse your fare;

In vain, till God has bleft;
But if his smiles attend your care,

You shall have food and rest.
4 Nor children, relatives, nor friends,

Shall real blessings prove,
Ncr all the earthly joys he sends,
If feat without his love.


Family blessings.
HAPPY man, whole foul is filled

With zeal and rev'rend awe!
His lips to God their honours yield,

His life adorns the law..

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