7 Thou wilt prepare our hearts to pray,
And caufe thine ear to hear;
Hearken to what thy children say,
And put 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.

MY Why do my foes infult and cry,

refuge is the God of love;

Fly, like a tim'rous, trembling dove,
To diftant woods or mountains fly?

2 If government be all deftroy'd,
(That firm foundation of our peace)
And viclence make juftice void,

Where shall the righteous feek redress ?

3 The Lord in heav'n has fix'd his throne; His eyes farvey the world below;

4

To him all mortal things are known; His eye-lids fearch our fpirits through.

If he afflicts his faints fo far,

To prove their love and try their grace,
What may the bold tranfgreffors fear!
His very foul abhors their ways..

5 On impious wretches he fhall rain
Tempefts of brimftone, 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 & hope in evil times; or, fins of the
tongue complained of, viz. blafphemy, falsehood, &c.
I ORD, if thou doft not foon appear,
Virtue and truth will flee away;

'L°

A faithful man among us here

Will fcarce be found, if thou delay.

2 The whole discourse, when neighbours meet,
Is fill'd with trifles loofe and vain;
Their lips are flatt'ry and deceit,
And their proud language is profane.
3 But lips that with deceit abound
Shall not maintain their triumph long:
The God of vengeance will confound
The flatt'ring and blafpheming tongue.
4 Yet fhall our words be free, they cry,
Our tongues fhall be control'd by none:
Where is the Lord will afk us why?
Or fay our lips are not our own?

5 The Lord, who fees the poor opprefs'd,
And hears th' oppreffor's haughty strain,
Will rife to give his children reft,
Nor fhall they truft his word in vain.

6 Thy word, O Lord, though often try'd, Void of deceit shall still appear;

Not filver, fev'n times purify'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'f, On ev'ry fide will finners fwarm.

PSALM XII. Common Metre. Complaint of a general corruption of manners; or the promife figns of Chrift's coming to judgment.

HELP, Lord, for men of virtue fail;

Religion lofes ground!

The fons of violence prevail,

And treacheries abound.

2 Their oaths and promises they break,
Yet act the flatt'rer's part;
With fair deceitful lips they fpeak,
And with a double heart.

3

If we reprove fome hateful lie,
How is their fury ftirr'd!
Are not our lips our own, they cry,
And who fhall be our Lord?

4 Scoffers appear on ev'ry fide,
Where a vile race of men

Is rais'd to feats of pow'r and pride,
And bear the fword in vain.

PAUSE.

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 chariot haft'ning on?
Haft thou not giv'n the fign?
May we not truft and live upon
A promife fo divine ?

7

"Yes, faith the Lord, now will I rife,
And make oppreffors flee ;
I fhall appear to their furprife,

And fet my fervants free."

8 Thy word, like filver fev'n times try'd,
Through ages fhall endure :
The men who in thy truth confide
Shall find thy promise fure.

PSALM XIII. Long Metre.

Pleading with God under desertion; or hope in darkness.

I

OW long, O Lord, fhall I complain Like one who feeks his God in vain ? Canft thou thy face forever hide, And I ftill pray and be deny'd ?

2 Shall I forever be forgot,

As one whom thou regardeft not?
Still fhall my foul thy abfence mourn?
And ftill despair of thy return?

3 How long fhall my poor troubled breast Be with thefe anxious thoughts opprefs'd? And fatan, my malicious foe,

Rejoice to fee me funk fo low?

4 Hear, Lord, and grant me quick relief,
Before my death concludes my grief;
If thou withhold'ft thy heav'nly light,
I fleep in everlasting night.

5 How will the pow'rs of darkness boast,
If but one praying foul be loft!
But I have trufted in thy grace,
And fhall again behold thy face.

6 Whate'er my fears or foes fuggest,
Thou art my hope, my joy, my reft;
My heart fhall feel thy love, and raise
My cheerful voice to fongs of praise.

PSALM XIII. Common Metre.
Complaint under temptations of the devil.
OW long wilt thou conceal thy face?
My God, how long delay ?
When fhall I feel thofe heav'nly rays
Which chafe my fears away?

HOW

2 How long fhall my poor lab'ring foul

3

Wrestle and toil in vain ?

Thy word can all my foes control,
And ease my raging pain.

See how the prince of darkness tries
All his malicious arts;

He fpreads a mift around my eyes,
And throws his fiery darts.

4 Be thou my fun, be thou my shield;
My foul in fafety keep;

5

Make hafte, before mine eyes are seal'd
In death's eternal fleep,

How would the tempter boast aloud
If I become his prey?

Behold the fons of hell grow proud
At thy fo long delay!

6 But,they fhall fly at thy rebuke,
And fatan hide his head:

He knows the terrors of thy look,
And hears thy voice with dread.

D