PART XVII. Metre ii.
1 BLEST be thy Name, eternal LORD!
O write within my Mind thy Word;
Let me, inftructed in thy Way,
The Wonders of thy Grace furvey.
2 What Streams of pureft Knowledge yield
Thy Words in full Display reveal'd!
By these the Souls, untaught before,
To Heights of heav'nly Science foar.
3 With facred Thirft my Bofom burn'd,
To Thee my op'ning Mouth I turn'd,
And from thy Precept wife and true
Its life-imparting Spirit drew.
4 How had I perifh'd, 'midft my Woes,
But that within my Bofom rofe
The Joys which thy Inftructions yield,
And each invading Grief difpell'd!
5 O let my Soul, to Life reftor'd,
Thy Love in lafting Hymns record;
While o'er my Head its Beams fhall shine,
And make thy great Salvation ́mine.
I MY Heart's beft Portion, LORD, art Thou,
To Thee my Thoughts Obedience vow;
Thy faithful Hand each Woe I feel
Inflicts, and wounds me but to heal.
2 Low in the Duft my Soul is laid,
O reach me, LORD, thy promis'd Aid;
Let thy good SPIRIT.to my Heart
His life-fuftaining Pow'r impart.
3 Behold me abfent from my Home,
Through Life's wild Maze a Pilgrim roam :
FRIEND of the Helplefs! near me ftand,
And fave me from th' Oppreffor's Hand.
4 Ere yet the Dawn has ftreak'd the Sky,
Gon of my Strength, to Thee I cry;
Let thy Compaffion, while I pray,
My Night illumine, guide my Day.
5 Thy Counfels on my Thought impreft,
Shall footh to Peace my troubled Breaft;
Thefe, LORD, I'll keep, and fix'd, decree
To fhun each Path that leads from Thee,
I SAFE on thy Word my Trust I build
O Thou my REFUGE and my SHIELD:
My Hope (nor fall that Hope be vain)
Thy facred Promises fuftain.
2 Thefe, my beft Wealth, my treafur'd Store, I keep, and view them o'er and o'er:
Thefe Heav'n-ward lift my thoughtful Soul,
When Night's dark Shades inveft the Pole.
3 My Hands on thy Commands fhall wait,
On thy pure Words I'll meditate,
Which fweeter on my Palate dwell
Than Honey dropping from its Cell.
4 Long as within this Houfe of Clay
My State of Pilgrimage I stay,
Thy Statutes are my Song;-thy Name
Wakes in my Breaft the holy Flame.
5 O turn from Vanity mine Eye,
To me thy quick'ning Strength fupply; Redeem from Error's Growth my Mind, Nor leave one baleful Root behind.
I FATHER, I blefs thy gentle Hand;
How kind was thy chaftifing Rod
That forc'd my Confcience to a Stand,
And brought my wand'ring Soul to God!
2 Foolish and vain I went aftray
Ere I had felt thy Scourges, LORD,
I left my Guide, and loft my Way;
But now I love and keep thy Word.
3 'Tis good for me to wear the Yoke,
For Pride is apt to rife and fwell;
'Tis good to bear my FATHER's Stroke,
That I might learn his Statutes well.
4 The Law that iffues from thy Mouth
Shall raise my cheerful Paffions more
Than all the Treafures of the South,
Or Western Hills of golden Ore.
5 Thy Hands have made my mortal Frame,
Thy SPIRIT form'd my Soul within;
Teach me to know thy wondrous Name,
And guard me fafe from Death and Sin.
6 Then All that love and fear the LORD
At my Salvation fhall rejoice;
For I have hoped in thy Word,
And made thy Grace my only Choice.
1 GREAT GOD of Confolation! fee
What bitter Cares my Soul poffefs;
In gracious Pity fet me free,
And ev'ry rifing Grief fupprefs.
2 My Soul for thy Salvation faints;
A dim Suffufion veils my Eyes;
When wilt Thou anfwer my Complaints,
Abfolve my Guilt and bid me rife?
3 Yet, let me not repining stand,
Thy Purpose fanctifies thy Rod;
The gentle Scourges of thy Hand
Still bring me nearer to my God.
4 This proves my Comfort in Diftrefs,
When Joy declines and Friendship low'rs,
The Pleasures of thy Word increase,
And quicken all my mental Pow'rs.
What lefs could mitigate my Grief,
Internal Hope or Joy supply?
Depriv'd of that divine Relief,
Hope disappears and Comforts die.
6 Thy Difpenfations I revere,
And ev'ry anxious Thought compofe;
Affur'd the Discipline 1 bear
From thy paternal Goodness flows.
Ere I had known Affliction's School
My treach'rous Feet were led astray;
But there I've learn'd a facred Rule;
Thy Word's a Clue to guide my Way.
I
O GOD I cry'd, with Anguifh ftung,
Nor form'd a fruitless Pray'r,-
“O fave me from the lying Tongue,
"And Lips that would infnare!"
2 Thou Child of Guilt, to Falsehood bred,
Say, what fhall be thine End?
See keeneft Arrows o'er thy Head,
And quenchless Coals, impend.
3 Ah! Woe is Me, to Mefech's Seat
And Kedar's Tents confin'd ;
Perpetual Infult doom'd to meet
From Men of reftlefs Mind.
When Offers mild of Peace I make,
And friendlieft Terms prepare ;
My Words their flumb'ring Rage awake,
And arm them for the War.
O! from the Hills my Help defcends ;
To them I lift mine Eyes:
My Strength on Him alone depends,
Who form'd the Earth and Skies.
2 He, ever watchful, ever nigh,
Forbids thy Feet to flide;
Nor Sleep nor Slumber feals the Eye
Of Ifrael's Guard and Guide.
3 He, at thy Hand, array'd in might,
His Shield fhall o'er thee fpread:
Nor Sun by Day, nor Moon by Night,
Shall hurt thy favour'd Head.
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