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The foe infults without controul,
"And where's your God at laft?"
'Tis with a mournful pleafure now
I think on antient days;

Then to thy houfe did numbers go,
And all our work was praise.

5 But why, my foul, funk down fo far
Beneath this heavy load?

Why do my thoughts indulge despair,
And fin against my God?

Hope in the Lord, whofe mighty hand
Can all thy woes remove,
For I fhall yet before him ftand,
And fing reftoring love.

PSALM XLII. 6,-11. Second part. Melancholy thoughts reproved; or, Hope in affliction.

M But I will call thy name to mind,
MY Y fpirit finks within me, Lord,

And times of paft diftrefs record,
When I have found my God was kind.,
2 Huge troubles, with tumultuous noife,
Swell like a fea, and round me fpread;
Thy water-fpouts drown all my joys,
And rifing waves roll o'er my head.
3 Yet will the Lord command his love,
When I addrefs his throne by day,
Nor in the night his grace remove;
The night fhall hear me fing and pray.
4 I'll caft myself before his feet,

And fay, "My God, my heav'nly Rock, "Why doth thy love fo long forget The foul that groans beneath thy ftroke?

E

5 I'll chide my heart that finks fo low,
Why should my foul indulge her grief?
Hope in the Lord, and praife him too;
He is my reft, my fure relief.

6 Thy light and truth fhall guide me still,
Thy word fhall my beft thoughts employ,
And lead me to thine heav'nly hill,
My God, my most exceeding joy.

PSALM XLIV. 1, 2, 3, 8, 15,-26.
The church's complaint in perfecution.
ORD, we have heard thy works of old,
Thy works of pow'r and grace,

'L

When to our ears our fathers told
The wonders of their days.

2 How thou didst build thy churches here,
And make thy gospel known;
Amongst them did thine arm appear,
Thy light and glory fhone.

3 In God they boafted all the day,
And in a chearful throng

Did thousands meet to praise and pray,
And grace was all their fong.

4 But now our fouls are feiz'd with fhame,
Confufion fills our face,

To hear the enemy blafpheme,
And fools reproach thy grace.

5 Yet have we not forgot our God,
Nor falfely dealt with heav'n,
Nor have our fteps declin'd the road
Of duty thou haft giv'n.

6 Tho' dragons all around us roar
With their deftructive breath,

And thine own hand has bruis'd us fore
Hard by the gates of death.

PAUSE.

7 We are expos'd all day to die, As martyrs for thy cause,

As fheep for flaughter bound we lye
By fharp and bloody laws.
8 Awake, arife, almighty Lord,

Why fleeps thy wonted grace?
Why should we look like men abhorr'd,
Or banish'd from thy face?

9 Wilt thou for ever cast us off,
And ftill neglect our cries?
For ever hide thine heav'nly love
From our afflicted eyes?

10 Down to the duft our foul is bow'd,
And dies upon the ground;
Rife for our help, rebuke the proud,
And all their pow'rs confound.

11 Redeem us from perpetual fhame,
Our Saviour and our God;

We plead the honours of thy name,
The merits of thy blood.

PSALM XLV. Short Metre.

The glory of Chrift: the fuccefs of the gospel, and the

1

MY

Gentile church.

Y Saviour and my King,
Thy beauties are divine;
Thy lips with bleffings overflow,
And ev'ry grace is thine.

2 Now make thy glory known,
Gird on thy dreadful fword,

1396

And ride in majesty to spread
The conquefts of thy word.

3 Strike thro' thy ftubborn foes,
Or melt their hearts t' obey,
While justice, meeknefs, grace and truth
Attend thy glorious way.

4 Thy laws, O God, are right;
Thy throne fhall ever stand;
And thy victorious gospel proves
A fceptre in thy hand,

5 [Thy Father and thy God, Hath, without measure, shed His Spirit like a joyful oil

T'anoint thy facred head.
6 Behold at thy right-hand
The Gentile church is feen,
Like a fair bride in rich attire,
And princes guard the queen.]

7

Fair bride, receive his love, Forget thy Father's houfe; Forfake thy gods, thy idol gods,

And pay thy Lord thy vows. 8 O let thy God and King

Thy sweetest thoughts employ; Thy children fhall his honours fing In palaces of joy.

I

PSALM XLV. Common Metre.

The perfonal glories and government of Chrift.
T'LL fpeak the honours of my King;
His form divinely fair;

None of the fons of mortal race

May with the Lord compare.

2 Sweet is thy fpeech, and heav'nly grace
Upon thy lips is shed;

Thy God with bleffings infinite
Hath crown'd thy facred head.

3 Gird on thy fword, victorious Prince,
Ride with majestic sway;

Thy terror fhall ftrike thro' thy foes,
And make the world obey.

4 Thy throne, O God, for ever stands;
Thy word of grace shall prove
A peaceful fceptre in thy hands,
To rule the faints by love.
5 Juftice and truth attend thee ftill,
But mercy is thy choice;

And God, thy God, thy foul shall fill
With most peculiar joys.

PSALM XLV. Firft Part. Long Metre.

N

The glory of Chrift, and power of his gospel.
TOW be my heart infpir'd to fing
The glories of my Saviour King,
Jefus the Lord; how heav'nly fair
His form! how bright his beauties are!
2 O'er all the fons of human race

He shines with a fuperior grace,
Love from his lips divinely flows,
And bleffings all his state compofe.
3 Drefs thee in arms, moft mighty Lord
Gird on the terror of thy fword,
In majefty and glory ride

With truth and meeknefs at thy fide,

4 Thine anger like a pointed dart
Shall pierce the foes of stubborn heart;

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