5 When thou against them doft engage,
Thy juft, but dreadful doom
Shall, like a fiery oven's rage,

Their hopes and them confume.

6 Thus, Lord, thy wondrous pow'r declare,
And thus exalt thy fame;
Whilft we glad fongs of praise prepare
For thine almighty name.

PSALM XXI. 1-9. Long Metre.
Chrift exalted to the kingdom.

Avid rejoic'd in God his strength, Rais'd to the throne by special grace, But Chrift the Son appears at length, Fulfils the triumph and the praife.

2 How great is the Meffiah's joy In the falvation of thy hand!

Lord, thou haft rais'd his kingdom high, And giv'n the world to his command. 3 Thy goodness grants whate'er he will, Nor doth the least request with-hold; Bleffings of love prevent him ftill, And crowns of glory, not of gold. 4 Honour and majesty divine

Around his facred temples fhine,
Bleft with the favour of thy face,
And length of everlasting days.

5 Thine hand fhall find out all his foes;
And as a fiery oven glows

With raging heat and living coals,
So fhall thy wrath devour their fouls.

PSALM XXII. 1-16. First Part. Common Metre.

W

The fufferings and death of Chrift.

HY has my God my foul forfook,
Nor will a fmile afford?
(Thus David once in anguish spoke,
And thus our dying Lord.)

2 Tho' 'tis thy chief delight to dwell
Among thy praifing faints,
Yet thou canst hear a groan as well,
And pity our complaints.

3 Our fathers trusted in thy name,
And great deliv'rance found;
But I'm a worm defpis'd of men,
And trodden to the ground.

4 Shaking the head they pafs me by,
And laugh my foul to fcorn;
"In vain he trufts in God, they cry,
"Neglected and forlorn."

5 But thou art he who form'd my flesh,
By thine almighty word,
And fince I hung upon the breast
My hope is in the Lord.

6 Why will my Father hide his face,
When foes ftand threatning round,
In the dark hour of deep diftrefs,
And not an helper found?

PAUSE.

7 Behold thy darling left among

The cruel and the proud,

As bulls of Bafhan fierce and ftrong.
As lions roaring loud.

8 From earth and hell my forrows meet
To multiply the fmart;

They nail my hands, they pierce my feet,
And try to vex my heart.

9 Yet if thy fov'reign hand let loofe
The rage of earth and hell,
Why will my heav'nly Father bruise.
The Son he loves fo well?

10 My God, if poffible it be,

With hold this bitter cup:

But I refign my will to thee,
And drink the forrows up..

II My heart diffolves with pangs unknown,
In groans I waste my breath:

Thy heavy hand hath brought me down
Low as the duft of death..

12 Father, I give my fpirit up,
And truft it in thy hand;
My dying flesh fhall reft in hope,

And rile at thy command.

PSALM XXII. 20, 21, 27,—31. Second Part. Common Metre.

I

Christ's fufferings and kingdom.

N

TOW from the roaring lion's rage,
O Lord, protect thy Son,

"Nor leave thy darling to engage
"The pow'rs of hell alone.

2 Thus did our fuff'ring Saviour pray
With mighty cries and tears;
God heard him in that dreadful day,
And chas'd away his fears.

1

3 Great was the vict'ry of his death,
His throne exalted high:
And all the kindreds of the earth
Shall worship or shall die.
4 A num❜rous offspring must arife
From his expiring groans;
They fhall be reckon'd in his eyes
For daughters and for fons.

5 The meek and humble fouls shall fee
His table richly spread;

And all that seek the Lord fhall be
With joys immortal fed.

6 The ifles shall know the righteousness
Of our incarnate God,

And nations yet unborn profefs
Salvation in his blood.

PSALM XXII. Long Metre. Christ's fufferings and exaltation. TOW let our mournful fongs record The dying forrows of our Lord, When he complain'd in tears and blood, As one forfaken of his God.

Now

2 The Jews beheld him thus forlorn, And thake their heads and laugh in fcorn; "He refcu'd others from the grave; "Now let him try himself to fave. 3" This is the man did once pretend "God was his father and his friend; "If God the blessed lov'd him fo,

Why doth he fail to help him now?

4 Barbarous people! cruel priests! How they food round like favage beafts;

Like lions gaping to devour,

When God had left him in their pow'r.

5 They wound his head, his hands, his feet,
Till ftreams of blood each other meet;
By lot his garments they divide,

And mock the pangs in which he dy'd.
6 But God, his father, heard his cry;
Rais'd from the dead he reigns on high;
The nations learn his righteoufnefs,
And humble finners tafte his grace.

PSALM XXIII. Long Metre.
God our Shepherd.

M

Y fhepherd is the living Lord;
Now fhall my wants be well fupply'd;

His providence and holy word

Become my fafety and my guide.

2 In paftures where falvation grows
He makes me feed, he makes me reft;
There living water gently flows,
And all the food divinely bleft.
3 My wand'ring feet his ways mistake,
But he reftores my foul to peace,
And leads me, for his mercy's fake,
In the fair paths of righteousness,
4 Tho' I walk thro' the gloomy vale
Where death and all its terrors are,
My heart and hope shall never fail,
For God my fhepherd's with me there.
5. Amidst the darkness and the deeps
Thou art my comfort, thou my ftay;
Thy ftaff fupports my feeble steps,
Thy rod directs my doubtful way.