PSALM LXXIII. First part. Com. metre.
AfflictedSaints happy, and prosperous Sinnerscured.
OW I'm convinc'd the Lord is kind
To men of heart fincere ;

Yet once my foolish thoughts repin'd,
And bo der'd on despair.

2 I griev'd to fee the wicked thrive,
And ipoke with angry breath;
"How pleafant and profane they live!
"How peaceful is their death!

"With well fed flesh, and haughty eyes,
"They lay their fears to fleep;
"Against the heav'ns their flanders rife s
"While faints in filence, weep.

4

"In vain I lift my hands to pray, "And cleanfe 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,
I felt my heart reprove;
"Sure I thall thus offend thy faints,
"And grieve the men I love.”

6 But ftill I found my doubts too hard;
The conflict too fevere;
'Till I retir'd to fearch thy word.
And learn the fecret there.

7 There, as in fome prophetic glafs,
I faw the finer's feet,

High mounted on a flipp'ry place,
Above a fiery pit.

8 I heard the wretch profanely boaft,
"Till, at thy frown, he fell;
His honors in a dream were loft,
And he awoke 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.

10 Yet I was kept from fell defpair,
Upheld by pow'r unknown:

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

PSALM LXXIII. Second part. Com. metre.
God, our portion here and hereafter.
OD, my fapporter and my hope,
My help forever near,

GOD

Thine arm of mercy held me up
When finking in despair

2 Thy counfels, Lord, fhall guide my feet
Through 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 fould faint?

God is my foul's Eternal Rock,

5

The ftrength of ev'ry faint.

Behold! the finners who remove
Far from thy prefence 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 fhall found thy works abroad,
And tell the world my joy.

PSALM LXXIII. Long metre.

The profperity of finners curfed.

LORD, what a thoughtless wretch was

To mourn and murmur, and repine,

To fee the wicked, plac'd on high,
In pride, and robes of honor fhine!

2 But Oh! their end, their dreadful end? Thy fanctuary taught me fo:

On flipp'ry rocks I fee them ftand,
And fiery billows roll below!

3 Now, let them boaft how tall they rife! I'll never envy them again :

There they may ftand with haughty eyes, 'Till they plunge deep in endless pain. 4 Their fency'd joys, how faft they flee! Juft like a dream when man awakes; Their fongs of fofteft harmony Are but a preface to their plagues.

Now I efteem their mirth and wine Too dear to purchase with my blood Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine," My life, my portion, and my God! PSALM LXXIII. Short. metre The mystery of Providence unfolded. URE there's a righteous God, Nor is religion vain :

Though 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 honor shine.

13 Pamper'd with wanton ease.

Their flesh looks fuli and fair;
Their wealth rolls in, like flowing feas,
And grows without their care.

4

Free from the plagues and pains

Which pious fouls endure,

Through all their life oppreffion reigns,

And racks the humble poor."

sTheir imp'ous tongues blafpheme

The everlasting God;

Their malace blafts the good man's name
And spreads its lies abroad.

6 But I, with flowing tears,
Indulg'd my doubts to rife;
"Is there a God who es or hears
"The things below the fkies ?""]

7 The tumults of my thoughts
Held me in hard fufpenfe,.

Till to thy houfe my feet were brought
To learn thy justice thence.

8 Thy word, with light and pow'r
Did my miftakes amend;
I view'd the finner's life before,
But here I learnt their end..

9 On what a flipp'ry fteep

The thoughtless wretches go! And Oh! that dreadful firy deep Which waits their fall below! I Lord, at thy feet I bow,

My thoughts no more repine ; I call my God my portion now, And all my pow'rs are thine.

PSALM LXXIV.

The Church.pleading with God,under fore perfecution.
TILL God forever caft us off?
His wrath forever smoke

WILL

Against the people of his love

His little chofen flock?

2 Think of the tribes fo dearly bought
With their Redeemer's blood;

Nor let thy Zion be forgot,

Where once thy giory flood.

Lift up thy feet and march in hafte,
Aloud our ruin calls;

4 Where once thy churches pray'd and fang Thy foes profanely roar;

Over thy gates their entigns hang,
Sad tokens of their pow'r.

3

How are the feats of worship broke!
They tear thy buildings down;

And he who deals the heav'eft ftroke,
Procures the chief renown.

6 With flames they threaten to destroy,
Tay children in their neft;
Come,let us burn at once they cry)
The temple and the priest.

7 And stilto heighten our diftreís,
Thy prefence is withdrawn;
Thy wonted figns of pow'r and grace,
Thy pow'r and grace are gone...

8 No prophet speaks to calm our woes,
But all the Spers mourn;

There's not a foul among us knows
The time of thy return,

PAUSE.

9 How long, Eternal God, how long,
Shall men of pride blafpheme?
Shall faints be made their endiefs fong,
And bear immortal fhame.

ro Canfl thou forever fit and hear
Thine holy name protan'd?

And fill thy jealousy forbear,

And ftill withhold thine hand?

II What ftrange deliv'rance haft thou shown In ages long before?

And, now, no other God we own;

No other God adore.