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PSA L M XLIV..
Thy Works of Pow'r and Grace,
The Wonders of their Days. 2 How Thou didft build thy Churches here,
And make thy Gospel known; Among them did thine Arm appear,
Thy Light and Glory shyne.
And, in a cheerful Throng,
And Grace was all their Song.
A Proverb to our Foes;
And triumphs in our Woes.
Why sleeps thy wonted Grace ?
Or banish'd from thy Face?
Our SAVIOUR and our God;
The Merits of thy Blood.
Y Heart doth take in Hand
Some godly Song to fing;
Pertaineth to the KING,
2 My Tongue shall be as quick
His Honour to indite,
That ufeth fast to write...
O fairest of ail Men!:
Thy Lips with Grace are pure ;
For ever to endure..
4 About Thee gird thy Sword,
O PRINCE of Might elect!
Thou art most. richly deckt..
5 Go forth with godly
In Works of dreadful Might...
6 Thy Arrows sharp and keen
Their Hearts so sore shall fting, That they shall crouch and kneel to Theeg,
Yea all thy Foes, O KING..
7 Thy royal Seat, O LORD,
For ever shall remain;
Doth Righteousness maintain.
8. Wherefore thy holy Name
All Ages shall record";
For evermore, O LORD.
PSA L M XLV. Metre ile
My Soul is Wing
The Praise of Christ my KING. 2 My Lips are eager, and delight.
Glad Tidings to impart,
With equal Ease and Art.
Of Men from Adam sprung; And God has giv'n eternal Grace
To thy perluasive Tongue. 4 Ride on, Thou PRINCE of wondrous Might!
Gird on thy dreadful Sword ! With Majesty, and glorious Light,
And TRUTH's all-conqu’ring Word. 5 Thy Throne, O God, for ever stands; Thy Word of Grace fhall
prove A peaceful Sceptre in thy Hands,
To rule thy Saints by Love.
But Mercy is thy Choice;
With most peculiar Joys.
PSALM XLV. Metre iii. 'N9W be my Heart infpird to fing
The Glories of my SAVIOUR-KING, , Jesus the Lord; how heav'nly fair His Form! How bright his Beauties are !
2 O'er all the Sons of human Race
He shines with a superior Grace;
And Blessings all his State compose. 3 Dress Thee in Arms, most mighty LORD!
Gird on the Terror of thy Sword!
With Truth and Meekness at thy Side! 4 Thine Anger, like a pointed Dart,
Shall pierce the. Foes of stubborn Heart :
Shall melt the Rebels at thy Feet.
Grace is the Scepter in thy Hands ;
Justice and Grace are thy Delight.
His Oil of. Gladness on thy Head,
7 THE KING OF SAINTS, how fair his Face;
Adorn'd with Majesty and Grace !
8 At his right Hand our Eyes behold
The Queen array'd in purest Gold;
9 He forms her Beauties like his own,
He calls and seats her near his Throne :
The Idols of thy native State.
In thee, the Favourite of his Choice;
For He's thy Maker and thy LORD. 11 O happy Hour, when thou shalt rise
To his fair Palace in the Skies !
12 Let endless Honours crown his Head;
Let ev'ry Age his Praises spread;
OD is the Refuge of his Saints,
When Storms of sharp Distress invade Ere we can offer our Complaints,
Behold Him present with his Aid. 2 Let Mountains froin their Seats be hurl'd
Down to the Deep, and bury'd there :
Our Faith shall never yield to Fear.
the troubled Ocean roar,