« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
Not Fruits nor Wines that tempt our Taste,
Or raise my cheerful Paffions fo.
Nó Taste of Pleasure could afford;
If I were banish'd from the LORD.
When busy Cares afflict my Head,
And adds Refreshment to my Bed.
While I have Breath to pray or praise;
2 Yet here, by heav'nly Wisdom led,
Expectant wait, till o'er my Head
3 Thy Love my Lips fhall ever tell,
(Can Life itself that Love excel?)
4 Safe in the Shadow of thy Wings
In Thee I joy, O KING OF KINGS:
PSA L M LXIV.
HY Suppliant's Voice propitious hear;
Secure, while Men my Soul pursue,
And hide, 0 hide me from their View. 2 Behold the slaughter-breathing Throng
Whet, as a Sword, their baleful Tongue,
That, edg’d with Death, shall walk the Air. 3 Ah! Wretches, whither will ye fly?
Behold the Arrow from on high
4 Each Heart shall own, with rev’rent Thought,
That Thou the Work, great God, haft wrought, Whilę, rescu'd from their Rage, the Just Exulting, fix on Thee their Truft.
PSA L M LXV.
My God; and Praise becomes thy House :
And there perform their public Vows.
To save, when humble Sinners pray;
And Islands of the Northern Sea.
But Grace shall purge away their Stain;
To wash my Garments white again.
And give him kind Access to Thee;
5 O THOU, the Hope of human Race,
Of All whom Earth's wide Arms embrace,
The Surface of the pathlefs Deep.
The Insults of the foaming Main,
And still the Madness of the Crowd.
Thy Wonders, mightiest LORD, survey ;
8 By unexhausted Springs supply'd,
Thy River pours it's copious Tide,
Earth's countless Family sustain. 9 The Clouds, in frequent Show'rs diftilld,
Drop Fatness on the pregnant Field;
And crown with Good the gliding Year. 10 The Hills around exulting stand,
And own the Bounty of thy Hand :
11 While, as beneath the fav’ring Skies
In crouded Ranks the Harvests rise,
PS A L M LXVI.
ING, all ye Nations, to the Lord,
Sing with a joyful Noise; With Melody of Sound record
His Honours and your Joys. 2 Say to the Pow'r that shakes the Sky,
" How terrible art Thou? “ Sinners before thy Presence fly,
" Or at thy Feet they bow."
Will rebel Mortals dare
And tempt that dreadful War
4 O bless our God, and never cease,
Ye Saints, fulfil his Praise ;
And guides our doubtful Ways. 5 LORD, Thou hast prov'd our suff'ring Souls
To make our Graces shine;
The Metal to refine.
6 Through watry Deeps and fiery Ways
We march at thy Command,
By thine unerring Hand.
7 NOW shall my folemn Vows be paid
To that Almighty Pow'r,
my distressful Hour.
To make his Mercies known;
ny God, and hear
I fought his heav'nly Aid;
And Death's eternal Shade.
10 If Sin lay cover'd in
Nor I his Praises sung.