My grateful Tongue, immortal KING,
Thy Mercy fhall for ever fing,
My Verse to Time's remotest Day
Thy Truth in facred Notes display:
O Thou, with endless Glory crown'd,
And Faith unfullied vefts Thee round!
2 From Thee, amid th' aerial Space,
The North and South affume their Place;
While Tabor's Brow, with Ev'ning red,
And Eaftern Hermon's unfhorn Head,
Wide through their echoing Groves thy Name
In Songs of grateful Joy proclaim.
3 Strong is thine Arm; thy fteadfast Will
Thy Hands with fure Effect fulfil;
While Juftice, 'mid th' ethereal Plain,
And Equity thy Throne fuftain,
And white-rob'd Truth and Mercy fair
Thy Steps precede, thy Path prepare.
4 O Bleft, who know that facred Sound
Which spreads the joyful Tidings round,
And fpeaks a Jubilee begun,
Which through eternal Years fhall run!-
Around their Steps thy Light fhall fhine,
And ev'ry Beam declare them thine.
How fhall they joy, from Day to Day,
Thy boundlefs Mercy to display;
Thy Righteoufnefs, indulgent LORD,
With holy Confidence record;
Thy Strength their fureft Refuge deem,
Thy Grace their Dignity fupreme!
FOR ever fhall my Song record
The Truth and Mercy of the LORD:
Mercy and Truth for ever ftand
Like Heav'n establish'd by his Hand.
7 Thus to his SON He fware, and faid,
"With Thee my Cov'nant firft is made;
"In Thee fhall dying Sinners live,
"Glory and Grace are Thine to give.
8 "Be Thou my PROPHET, Thou my PRIEST; "Thy Children shall be ever blest;
"Thou art my chofen King: Thy Throne
"Shall ftand eternal like
"There's none of all my Sons above
"So much my Image or my Love;
"Celestial Powers thy Subjects are,
"Then what can Earth to Thee compare?
10 "David, my Servant, whom I chose
"To guard my Flock, to crufh my Foes,
"And rais'd him to the Jewish Throne,
"Was but a Shadow of my SON."
II Now let the Church rejoice and fing,
JESUS her SAVIOUR and her KING:
Angels his heav'nly Wonders fhow,
And Saints declare his Works below.
GOD, our Help in Ages paft,
Our Hope for Years to come;
Our Shelter from the ftormy Blast,
And our eternal Home.
2 Under the Shadow of thy Throne
Thy Saints have dwelt fecure;
Sufficient is thine Arm alone,
And our Defence is fure.
3 Before the Hills in Order ftood,
Or Earth receiv'd her Frame,
From everlasting Thou art GOD,
To endless Years the fame.
4 A Thousand Ages in thy Sight
Are like an Ev'ning gone;
Short as the Watch that ends the Night,
Before the rifing Sun.
5 Time, like an ever-rolling Stream,
Bears all its Sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a Dream
Dies at the op'ning Day.
6 Like flow'ry Fields the Nations ftand,
Pleas'd with the Morning-Light;
The Flow'rs beneath the Mower's Hand
Lie with'ring ere 'tis Night.
7 O GOD, our Help in Ages paft,
Our Hope for Years to come;
Be Thou our Guard while Life fhall laft,
And our eternal Home.
8 THOU LORD haft weigh'd our ev'ry Fault,
And thine all-fearching Eyes
Mark and arreft each guilty Thought
Which veil'd in Darkness lies.
9 Our fleeting Days are fwiftly blown
Before thy ang'ry Blaft;
Our Years, like empty Tales, are gone,
Which scarce a Moment laft.
10 'Tis but a few, whofe Days amount
To threefcore Years and ten;
And all beyond that short Account
Is Sorrow, Toil, and Pain.
11 So teach us to compute our Days,
And fo our Hearts apply,
That fafely we, through Wisdom's Ways,
May reach Eternity.
12 Return, O LORD, and grant fome Reft
To all thy Servant's Woes!
Our Hearts, with early Mercies bleft,
To holy Joys difpofe!
Let Heav'n fucceed our painful Years,
Let Sin and Sorrow ceafe;
And in Proportion to our Tears,
So make our Joys increase.
14 Thy Wonders to thy Servants fhow,
Make thy own Work compleat;
Then fhall our Souls thy Glory know,
And own thy Love was great.
PSALM XC. Metre ii.
HEE, LORD, their Refuge, Thee alone,
From earliest Age, thy People own:
Thou, e'er the Mountains rofe to Birth,
And, while unform'd the Heav'ns and Earth,
For ever GOD!
2 A Thousand Years to thy Survey
Are as the Hours of Yesterday;
A Watch in Night one scarce perceives
When prefent,-and when absent leaves
3 Our Life, with all its Toil and Care,
Diffolves away in empty Air;
Or as a Phantom of the Night
Glides by the weak, deluded Sight,
4 Or like the Grafs which fprings to view,
By Show'rs refresh'd, or early Dew;
Anon, beneath the Mower's Hand,
Swept down, all wither'd, ftrows the Land
By clofing Day.
5 Thine Eyes our inmoft Guilt can read,
Thy Prefence on each impious Deed,
(That ftudious fhuns the Sight of Day),
Refiftlefs darts its fearching Ray,
6 O who thy Terrors juftly weighs!
Who to thy Pow'r fubmiffive pays
Proportion'd Homage?-Teach us Thou
To count Life's Moments as they flow,
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