PSALM X. Common metre. Prayers heard, and faints faved: er, pride, atheifm, and oppreffion punished.
For a humiliation-day.'
THY doth the Lord ftand off fo far?
And why conceal his face,
When great calamities appear,
And times of deep diftrefs?
Lord. fhall the wicked ftill deride
Thy justice and thy pow'r?
Shall they advance their heads in pride,
And fill thy faints devour?
3 They put thy judgements from their fight,
and then infult the poor;
They boaft in their exalted height,
That they fhall fall no more.
4 Arife, O God, lift up thine hand;
Attend our humble cry;
No enemy fhall dare to ftand
When God afcends on high.
5 Why do the men of malice rage,
And fay, with foolish pride,
The God of heav'n will ne'er engage
To fight on Zion's fide?
Since thou for ever art the Lord;
And pow'rful is thine hand,
As when the Heathen felt thy fword,
And perith'd from thy land.
7 Thou wilt prepare our hearts to pray,
And caufe thine ear to hear:
He hearkens what his children fay,
And puts the world in fear.
8 Proud tyrants fhall no more opprefs;
No more defpife the juft;
And mighty finners fhall confefs,
They are but earth and duft.
PSALM XI. Long metre.
God loves the righteous and hates the wicked.
Y refuge is the God of love!
Why do my foes infult and cry,
Fly, like a tim'rous trembling dove,
To distant woods or mountains fly?
2 If government be all deftroy'd,
(That firm foundation of our peace)
And violence make juftice void,
Where fhall the righteous feek redrefs?
3 The Lord in heav'n has fix'd his throne;
His eye furveys the world below;
To him all mortal things are known;
His eye-lids fearch our fpirits through.
4 If he afflicts his faints fo far,
To prove their love and try their grace,
What may the boid tranfgreffors fear!
Mis very foul abhors their ways.
On impious wretches he ball rain
Tempefts of brimiftone, fire and death,
Such as he kindled on the plain
Of Sodom, with his angry breath.
6 The righteous Lord loves righteous fouls,
Whofe thoughts and actions are fincere,
And with a gracious eye beholds
The men who his own image bear.
PSALM XII. Long metre.
The faints' fafety and hope in evil times or; Ans of the tongue complained of, viz. blafpherny, falfhood, &c.
LORD, if thou dost not foow appear,
Virtue and truth will fly away;
A faithful man among us here
Will scarce be found, if thou delay.
2 The whole difcourfe, when neighbours mest, Is fill'd with trifles loose and vain ; .
Their lips are flatt'ry and deceit,
And their proud language is profane;
* But lips that with deceit abound
Shall not maintain their triumph long:
The God of vengence will confound
The flatt'ring and blafpheming tongue.
A Yet fhall our words be free, they cry,
Our tongues fhall be controul'd by none:
Where is the Lord will ask us why?
Or jay our lips are not our own?
5 The Lord, who fees the poor oppreft,
And hears oppreffors' haughty ftrain,
Will rife to give his children reft,
Nor fhall they trust his word in vain.
Thy word, O Lord, though often try'd,
Void of deceit fhall ftill appear;
Not filver fev'n times purity'd
From drofs and mixture, fhines fo clear.
7 Thy Grace fhall, in the darkest hour,
Defend the holy foul from harm;
Though when the vileft men have pow'r,
On ev'ry fide will finners fwarm.
PSALM XII. Common metre. Complaint of a general corruption of manners; or The promife and figns of CHRIST's coming to judgment.
HReligion lofes ground!
TELP, Lord, for men of virtue fail;
The fons of violence prevail,
And tfeacheries abound.
2 Their oaths and promifes they break,
Yet act the flatt'rers part;
With fair deceitful lips they speak,
And with a double heart.
If we reprove fome hateful lie,
How is their fury stirr'd!
Are not our lips our own? they cry?
And, nubo lhall be our Lord?
Scoffers appear on ev'ry fide,
White a vile race of men
Are rais'd to feats of pow'r and pride,
And bears the fword in vain.
5 Lord, when iniquities abound,
And blafphemy grows bold,
When faith is hardly to be found,
And love is waxing cold.
6 Is not thy char'ot haftning on?
Haft thou not giv'n the fign?
May we not truft and live upon
A promife fo divine?
"Yes, faith the Lord, now will I rife,
And make oppreffors fiet ;
I fhall appear to their furprife,
And fet my fervants free."
8 Thy word like filver fev'n times try'd,
Thro' ages fhall endure:
The men who in thy truth confide,
Shali find the promise fure.
PSALM XIII. Long metre.
Pleading with God under defertion; or, hope in dur knefs.
OW long, O Lord, fhall I'complain
Can't thou thy face forever hide,
And I ftil pray and be deny'd ?
2 Shall I forever be forgot,
As one whom thou regardest not?
Still thall my foul thy abfence mourn?
And still defpair of thy return?
3 How long hall my poor troubled breast Be with thefe anxious thoughts opprefs'd ? And fatan, my malicious foe.
Rejoice to fce me funk fo low?
4 Hear, Lord, and grant me quick relief;
Before my death concludes my grief;
If thou withhold thy heav'nly light,
1 fleep in everlasting right.
5 How will the pow'rs of darkness boat,
If but one praying foul be loft!
But I have trufted in tay grace,
And shail again behold thy face.
6 Whate'er my fears or foes fuggeft,
Thou art my hope, my joy, my reft;
My heart shall fee: thy lovs, and raise
My cheerful voice to songs of praise.
PSALM XIII. Common mètre.
Complaint under temptations of the devils
TOW long wilt thou conceal thy face?
Hong, how long delay!
When fhall I feel thofe heav'nly rays
Which chace my fears away?
2 How long fhall my poor lab'ring foul.
Wrestle and toil, in vain ?
Thy word can all my foes controul,
And cafe my raging pain.
3 See how the prince of darkness tries
All his malicious arts!
He fpreads a mift around my eyes,
And throws his fiery darts.
Be thou my fen, and thou my fhield;
My foul in fafety keep;
Make hafte, before mine eyes are feal'd
In death's eternal fleep.
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