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"'Tis written in thy great Decree,
“ 'Tis in thy Book foretold of Me ;
" I must fulfil the Saviour's Part;

“ And lo! thy Law is in my Heart. 6 6 I'll magnify thy holy Law,

" And Rebels to Obedience draw,
" When on my Cross I'm lifted high,

“ Or to my Crown above the Sky: 7

“ The Spirit shall descend, and show “What Thou hast done, and what I do; “ The wond'ring World shall learn thy Grace,

Thy Wisdom, and thy Righteousness.”

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PSA L M XL.

Metre ili.

1

W

ITH patient Hope my God I sought ;

He to his Suppliant's Want his Thought

In happieft Hour apply'd :
He, from the dark and miry Pit,
High on a Rock has rais'diny Feet,

Nor fear my Steps to slide.
2 His Praise inspires my grateful Tongue,
And dictates to my Lips a Song

In Strains unheard before : Admiring Crowds his Work shall fee, Their Strength on Him repose with Me,

With Me his Name adore.
3 Bleft who in Thee, great God, confide,
Nor madly trust the Arm of Pride,

And Helps which but betray.
Thy Mercies, LORD, all Praise surmount,
Nor Numbers can their Sum recount,

Nor Words their Worth display,

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PART II.
4 No Sacrifice thy Love can win,
Nor Off'rings from the Stain of Sin

Obnoxious Man fhall clear:
Thy Hand a mortal Frame prepares,
(Thy Hand whose Signature it bears)

And opes a willing Ear.
5 " And since the Blood of Vietiins slain,
“ And hallow'd Gifts, attempt in vain

“ T'avert th' Offender's Doom;
- Myself th’Atoneinent will provide ;
(Touch'd with our Woes, the Saviour cry’d)

“ I come, my God, I come.”
6 “ Thy Book, by sacred Bards unroll’d,
My full Obedience has foretold

" To thy mysterious Will :
“ His juft Aflent thy Servant gives,
“ Thy Words my Breast with Joy receives,

My Hands with Zeal fulfil."
7
Great HELPER and REDEEMER, hear!
O, instant in our Cause, appear

With Tokens of thy Grace!
Thy Bliss let All who seek Thee share,
And, taught thy Love, that Love declare

In Songs of ceaseless Praise.

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B4

LEST, who with gen'rous Pity glows,

Who learns to feel Another's Woes,
Bows to the poor Man's Wants bis Ear,
And wipes the helpless Orphan's Tear :
In ev'ry Want, in ev'ry Woe,
Himself thy Pity, LORD, fhall know,

2 Thy Love his Life shall guard; thy Hand

Give to his Lot the chosen Land;
Nor leave bim in the dreadful Day
To unrelenting Foes a Prey;
In Sickness Thou shalt raise his Head,
And turn with tend'rest Care his Bed.

3

O thankful bless th' Almighty LORD,
The God by Jacob's Sons ador’d:
His Fame, e'er Time its Course began,
O'er Heav’n’s wide Region echoing ran;
To Him, through endless Ages, raise
One Song of oft-repeated Praise.

PSALM XLII.

Metre i.

AS

S pants the Hart for cooling Streams,

When heated in the Chace,
So longs my Soul, O God, for THEE,

And thy refreshing Grace.
2 For Ther, my God, the living God,

My thirsty Soul doth pine;
O when shall I behold thy Face,

Thou Majesty divine!
3 Tears are my constant Food, while thus

Insulting Foes upbraid, “ Deluded Wretch, where's now thy God?

" And where his promis'd Aid?”
4 Why restless, why cast down my Soul ?

Trust God, and He'll employ
His Aid for thee; and change these Sighs

To thankful Hyınns of Joy.

5 When thy bleft Presence, LORD OF LIFE,

Has once dispelld the Storm;
To Thee I'll midnight Anthems sing,

And all my Vows perform.
6 God of my Strength, how long shall I

Like one forgotten mourn! Forlorn, forsaken, and expos'd

To iny Oppreffor's Scorn! 7 My Heart is pierce'd as with a Sword,

While thus my Foes upbraid, “ Vain Boaster, where is now thy God?

“ And where his promis'd Aid" 8 Why restless, why cast down my Soul ?

Hope still, and thou shalt fing The Praise of Him who is thy God,

Thy Health's eternal SPRING.

PSA L M XLII.

Metre ii.

,

S pants the Hart for cooling Springs,

So longs my Soul, O KING OF KINGS, Thy Face in near Approach to see, So thirsts, great Source of Life, for THEE. When shall I reach thy blest Abode ! When meet the Presence of

my

God!

2 Thy Mercies, LORD, before my Eyes,

Shall yet in sweet Remembrance rise ;
Though Deeps to boift'rous Deeps aloud
Have call'd ;and from the bursting Cloud
Their licens'd Rage the Storms have shed,
And heap'd the Billows o'er my Head,

3

Yet 'midst the Storin and 'midst the Wave
Thy Love the Beams of Comfort gave :
Thy Name to Rapture prompts my Tongue,
My Joy by Day, by Night my Song:
To Thee my Soul ascends in Pray'r,
And in thy Bosom pours its Care.

4 Then why my Soul with Care oppress’d? And whence the Woes that fill

my

Breast?
In all thy Cares, in all thy Woes
On God thy steadfast Hope repose;
To Himmy Thanks fhall still be paid,
My sure DEFENCE, my constant AID.

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UST JUDGE of Heav'n, against my Foes

? O set me free, my God, from thote

That in Deceit and Wrong delight.
2 Let me with Light and Truth be blest,

Be Thou my Guide, and lead the Way,
Till on thy holy Hill I reft,

And in thy sacred Temple pray. 3

Then will I there fresh Altars raise
To God, who is my only Joy;
And well-tun'd Harps with Songs of Praise

Shall all my grateful Hours employ.
4 Why then caft down, my Soul, and why

So much oppress'd with anxious Care?
On Ged, thy God, for Aid rely,
Who will thy ruin'd State repair.

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