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PSALM LXXXIX. Fourth Version. Third Part.

A blesed Gospel.
LEST are the Souls who hear and know

The Gospel's joyful Sound;
Peace shall attend the Path they go,

And Light their Steps surround.
2 Their Joy shall bear their Spirits up

Thro’ their Redeemer's Name;
His wond'rous Grace exalts their Hope,

Let all his Grace proclaim.
3 The Lord our Glory and Defence

Strength and Salvation gives : Ifrael, thy King for ever reigns,

Thy God for ever lives.
PSALM LXXXIX. Fourth Version. Fourth Part.

Christ's mediatorial Kingdom.
EAR what the Lord in Vision said,

And made his Mercy known :
“ Sinners behold your Help is laid

my

beloved Son.
" Behold the Man my Wisdom chose
Among your

mortal Race;
“ His Head my holy Oil o'erflows,

“ The Spirit of my Grace.
3 High shall he reign on David's Throne,

“ My People's better King ;
My Arm shall beat his Rivals down,

“ 'And still new Subjects bring.
4
“ My Truth shall guard him in his Way

" With Mercy by his Side,
While in my Name thro' Earth and Sea

“He shall in Triumph ride.
5
" Me for his Father and his God

“ He shall for ever own,
“ Call me his Rock, his high Abode;
“ And I'll support my Son.

Η'

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6 My first-born Son array'd in Grace

At my Right-Hand shall fit;
“ Beneath him Angels know their Place,

“ And Monarchs at his Feet.
7 “My Cov'nant stands for ever fast,

My Promises are strong ;
" Firm as the Heav'ns his Throne shall fast,

“ His Seed endure as long."

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PSALM LXXXIX. Fifth Verfion, WATTH

A Funeral Pfalm.
I THINK, mighty God, on feeble Man

How few his Hours! how short his Span!
Short from the Cradle to the Grave:
Who can secure his vital Breath
Againft the bold Demands of Death

With Skill to fly, or Pow'r to save ?
2 Lord, shall it be for ever said,
• The Race of Man was only made

For Sickness, Sorrow and the Duft ?*** Are not thy Servants Day by Day Sent to their Graves, and turn'd' to Clay!

Lord, where's thy Kindness to the Just?
3 Haft thou not promis'd to thy Son
And all his Seed a heav'nly Crown?

But Flesh and Sense indulge Despair ;
For ever blessed be the Lord
That Faith can read his holy Word,

And find a Resurrection there.
4 Por ever blessed be the Lord,
Who gives his Saints a long Reward,

For all their Toil, Reproach, and Pain :
Let all below and all above
Join to proclaim thy wondrous Love,

And each repeat their loud Amen.

PSALM

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PSALM XC.

Firft Version.

First Part. MERRICK.

God's Eternity, and Man's Mortality,

E ere yet theiM

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their Form the Heav'ns and Earth
Affum'd, thou cloth'd in Light divine

Haft shone; and shalt for ever shine.
2 Thou to the Sons of human Kind

In short Extension haft affign'd
Their Term, and bid them, at its End,
Low

to their native Duft descend.
3.
Behold at Morn the mortal Race
With joyous Bloom, and vernal Grace,
Exulting flourish : Ev'ning nigh,

Cropt like the Plant, they fade and die.
4 Our Time to sev’nty Years confin'd,

If aught of Life remain behind,
If Nature yet a ten Year's Day,

Indulge us, ere her Debt we pay,
5 Our Strength but Weakness then we know,

And added Age but lengthen’d Woe;
Stripp'd of our Pride, we close our Span,

And vanish from the Eye of Man.
6 Father of Mercies, teach us how

To count Life's Moments as they flow,
And, while its End our Thoughts survey,
By Wisdom's Line to guide our Way:

PSALM XC. First Version. , Second Part.
Prayer to God for Success, Safety, and Happiness.

ETURN, all-potent Lord, return :

O let us not thy Absence mourn,
Thee, Lord, their Refuge, thee alone,

From earliest Age thy People own.
2 Author of Good, thy Work mature,

In thee the Righteous are secure ;
O may the Majesty divine
On us its mildet Beams incline ;

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3 And while, new Scenes of Hope to view

Disclos’d, our Labor we pursue,
Thy fav’ring Hand with full Success

That Hope confirm, that Labor bless.
4 Thy Mercy, to our Souls reveal'd,

Satiety of Bliss shall yield;
And, while thy Breath our Life prolongs,
With grateful Mirth inspire our Tongues.
PSALM XC. Second Verfion. TATE.

God eternal and Man mortal.
i PEFORE thou broughtft the Mountains forth,

Or th’ Earth and World didit frame,
Thou always wert the mighty God,

And ever art the fame.
2 Thou turnest Man, O Lord, to Dust,

Of which he first was made;
And when thou speak'st the Word Return,

'Tis instantly obey'a.
3 For in thy Sight a thousand Years

Are like a Day that's paft,
Or like a Watch in Dead of Night,

Whose Hours unminded waste.
4 Thou sweep'ít us off as with a Flood ;

We vanish hence like Dreams;
At first we grow like Grass that feels

The Sun's reviving Beams.
5 But howsoever fresh and fair

Its Morning-Beauty shows;
'Tis all cut down and wither'd quite,

Before the Ev'ning close.
6 Our Term of Time is seventy Years,

An Age that few furvive;
But if, with more than common Strength,

To eighty we arrive;
7
Yet then our boasted Strength decays,

To Sorrow turn'd, and Pain;
So foon the slender Thread is cut,

And we no more remain.

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239

8 So teach us, Lord, th' uncertain Sum

Of our short Days to mind,
That to true Wisdom all our Hearts

May ever be inclin'd.
9 Let thy bright Rays upon us shine;

Give thou our Work Success :
The glorious Work we have in Hand,

Do thou vouchsafe to bless.

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ΤΗ

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PSALM XC. Third Version. Warts.

A Pfalm for a Funeral.
HRO' ev'ry Age, Eternal God,

Thou art our Rest, our safe Abode;
High was thy Throne ere Heav'n was made,

Or Earth thy humble Footstool laid.
2 Long hadît thou reign'dere Time began,

Or Duft was fashion'd to a Man ;
And long thy Kingdom shall endure

When Earth and Time shall be no more.
3 A thousand of our Years amount

Scarce to a Day in thine Account;
Like Yesterday's departed Light,

Or the laft Watch of ending Night. 4 Death like an overflowing Stream

Sweeps us away; our Life's a Dream
An empty Tale; a Morning-Flow'r

Cut down and witherd in an Hour. 5 Our Age to seventy Years is set;

How short the Term! how frail the State !
And if to eighty we arrive,

We rather figh and groan than live. 6 But O how oft thy Hand appears,

And cuts off our expected Years !
Thy Hand awakes our humble Dread:

We fear the Pow'r that strikes us dead. 7 us, O Lord, how frail is Man;

And kindly lengthen out our Span,
Till a wife Care of Piety
Fit us to die, and dwell with thee.

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PSALM

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