3 The LORD in Heav'n has fix'd his Throne; To Him all mortal Things are known; His Eyelids fearch our Spirits through. 4 If He afflicts his Saints fo far, To prove their Love, and try their Grace, His very 5 The righteous LORD loves righteous Souls, 2 PSALM XII. Help me, LORD, for few I fee, Whofe Acts conform to thy Decree ; But GOD with Vengeance arm'd fhall rife, 66 Enough (th' eternal SIRE has cried) Enough my fuff'ring Saints have figh'd, "To Me difclos'd their ceaseless Fear, "And pour'd their Sorrows in mine Ear : "My Hand fhall fee their Wrongs redreft, "And footh to Peace their troubled Breaft." 3 Pure are thy Words, Almighty LORD, Thy Love each fruitful Heart fhall share, Unmoy'd; though Wrongs the Earth o'erfpread And Vice triumphant lifts its Head. I H OW long wilt thou conceal thy Face? When fhall I feel thofe heav'nly Rays 2 How long fhall my poor lab'ring Soul 3 See how the Prince of Darkness tries. He spreads a Mift around my Eyes, 4 Be Thou my Sun, be Thou my Shield, Make hafte before mine Eyes are feal'd 5 Since I have always plac'd my Truft Thy faving Health will come, and then 6 Thou wilt display that fov'reign Grace ORD, who's the happy Man that may Not Stranger like, to visit them, But to inhabit there? 2 The Man who walks in pious Ways, 3 He fpeaks the Meaning of his Heart, 4 Who Vice, in all its Pomp and Pow'r And Piety, though cloath'd in Rags, 5 Who on his plighted Vows and Truft 6 Whofe Hands difdain a golden Bribe, I This Man when Earth's Foundation fhakes 'PR PSALM XVI. RESERVE me, LORD, in Time of Need, 2 Oft have my Heart and Tongue confeft 3 Yet, LORD, thy Saints on Earth may reap Some Profit by the Good we do; These are the Company I keep, 4 Thefe are the choiceft Friends I know. Let others chufe the Sons of Mirth To give a Relifh to their Wine; I love the Men of heav'nly Birth, Whofe Thoughts and Language are divine. PART II. 5 HOW faft their Guilt and Sorrows rife, 6 My GoD provides a richer Cup, 7 His Love is my perpetual Feaft; PART III. 9 WHEN GOD is nigh, my Faith is strong, His Arm is my Almighty Prop: Be glad, my Heart, rejoice my Tongue, 10 Tho' in the Duft I lay my Head, Yet, gracious GOD, Thou wilt not leave My Soul for ever with the Dead, Nor lose thy Children in the Grave. 11 My Flesh fhall thy first Call obey, 12 There Streams of endless Pleasure flow; PSALM XVII. Metre i ARISE, my gracious GOD, And make the Wicked flee : They are but thy chaftifing Rod, Behold the Sinner dies, 1 Then let his Pride advance, I fhall behold the Face And ftand compleat in Righteousness, i, |