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4 Yet see, thine Hands a Standard rear;

Beneath it Each, who owns thy Fear,
(Engag'd in TRUTH's neglected Cause)

His Sword, secure of Conquest, draws. 5 Such, Objects of thy tend'rest Love,

Defend, propitious, from above;
Let Me with them thy Mercy share,
And hear, O hear my ceaseless Pray’r.

PS A L M LXI.

Metre i.

W

HEN o'erwhelm'd with Grief,

My Heart within me dies;
Helpless and far from all Relief,

To Heav'n I lift mine Eyes. 2 O lead me to the Rock

That's high above my Head';
And make the Covert of thy Wings

My Shelter and my Shade. 3

Within thy Presence, LORD,

For ever I'll abide;
Thou art the Tow'r of my Defence,

The REFUGE where I hide. 4 Thou givest me the Lot

Of those that fear thy Naine; If endless Life be their Reward,

I shall possess the same.

PS A L M LXI.

Metre ii.

OPPRESSED with Grief, in Exile loft,

My Voice, eternal God, I send;
O hear my Plaint; my Pray’r attend.

2 High on the Rock my Fortress rear ;

There let me stand unmov'd, and hear
The Storms, (that now around me beat,)

At Distance roll beneath my Feet.
3 Thee, LORD, I seek, whene'er my Foes

With dire Intent my Path inclose;
And own Thee, in the dang'rous Hour,

My stedfast Hope, my strongest Tow'R. 4 Remote from Fear, within thy Shrine

Thou, LORD, my Dwelling shalt assign; Thy Wings shall wrap me in their Shade;

Thou, Thou haft heard me when I pray’d. 5 Thus shall thy Love awake my Song,

Thy Name the willing Note prolong,
While warm'd with Zeal, my Vows I pay,
And blefs Thee to my latest

latest Day

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M

1 Y Spirit looks to God alone;

My Rock and Refuge is his Throne; In all my Fears, in all my Straits,

My Soul for his Salvation waits.
2 Truft Him, ye Saints, in all your Ways,

Pour out your Hearts before his Face:
When Helpers fail, and Foes invade,
God is our all-sufficient Aid.

3

False are the Men of high Degree,
The baser Sort are Vanity;
Laid in the Balance, both appear
Light as a Puff of empty Air.

4. Make not increasing Gold your Trust,

Nor set your Hearts on glitt'ring Duft;
Why will you grafp the fleeting Smoke,
And not believe what God hath spoke.

5

Once hath his awful Voice declar'd,
Once and again my Ears have heard,
66 All Pow'r is his eternal Due ;
“ He must be fear'd and trusted too."

6 For sov'reign Pow's reigns not alone,

Grace is a Partner of the Throne;
Thy Grace and Justice, mighty LORD,
Shall well divide our last Reward.

PSALM LXIII.

Metre is.

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MY

Y GOD, permit my Tongue

This Joy, to call Thee mine;,
And let my early Cries prevail

To taste thy Love divine.
My thirsty, fainting Soul
Thy Mercy doth implore;
Not Travellers, in Desert-Lands,

Can pant for Water more.
3 Within thy Churches, LORD,

I long to find a Place;
Thy Pow'r and Glory to behold,

And feel thy quick’ning Grace.
For Life without thy Love,

No Relish can afford;
No Joy can be compar'd with this,

To serve and pleafe the LORD.

5

To Thee I'll lift my Hands,

And praise Thee while I live; Not the rich Dainties of a Feait

Such Food or Pleasure give.

6 In wakeful Hours of Night,

I call my God to mind;
I think how wife thy Counsels are,

And all thy Dealings kind. 7

Since Thou haft been my Help,

To Thee my Spirit flies,
And on thy watchful Providence

My cheerful Hope relies.
8 The Shadow of thy Wings

My Soul in Safety keeps :
I follow where my Father leads,

And He supports my Steps.

PSA L M LXIII.

Metre ii.

E A Delay,

I

I haste to seek thy Face :
My thirsty Spirit faints away,

Without thy cheering Grace.
2 So Pilgrims on the scorching Sand,

Beneath a burning Sky,
Long for a cooling Stream at hand,

And they must drink or die.
3 I've seen thy Glory, and thy Pow'r

Through all thy Temples shine; My God, repeat that heav'nly Hour,

That Vision fo divine !

4 Not all the Bleslings of a Feaft

Can please my Soul so well,
As when thy richer Grace I taste,

And in thy Presence dwell.
s Not Life itself, with all her Joys,
Can
my

beft Passions move,
Or raise fo high my cheerful Voice,

As thy forgiving Lové.
6 Thus, till my laft expiring Day,

I'll bless my God and KING;
Thus will I lift my Hands to pray,

And tune my Lips to sing.

PSA L M LXIII.

Metre iii.

Thou art my

G

REAT God, indulge my humble Claim,

Thou art my Hope, my Joy, my Rest: The Glories that compose thy Name,

Stand all engag'd to make me bleft. 2 Thou Great and Good, thou Just and Wife,

FATHER and my God; And I am Thine by facred Ties:

Thy Son, thy Servant bought with Blood. 3 With Heart and Eyes and lifted Hands,

For Thee I long, to THEE I look ;
As Travellers, in thirsty Lands,

Pant for the cooling Water-Brook. 4 With early Feet I love t' appear

Among thy Saints, and seek thy Face;
Oft have I seen thy Glory there,
And felt the Pow'r of sov’reign Grace. .

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