VOL. II.

PSALM XXVII.-No. 2.

ONE thing, with all my soul's desire,
I sought and will pursue;

What thine own Spirit doth inspire,
Lord! for thy servant do.

Grant me within thy courts a place,

Among thy saints a seat,

For ever to behold thy face,

And worship at thy feet :—

In thy pavilion to abide,

When storms of trouble blow,

And in thy tabernacle hide,
Secure from every foe.

"Seek ye my face;"-without delay,
When thus I hear Thee speak,
My heart would leap for joy, and say,

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Thy face, Lord, will I seek."

Then leave me not when griefs assail,
And earthly comforts flee;
When father, mother, kindred fail,
My God! remember me.

Oft had I fainted, and resign'd
Of every hope my hold,

But mine afflictions brought to mind
Thy benefits of old.

Wait on the Lord, with courage wait

My soul! disdain to fear;

The righteous Judge is at the gate,
And thy redemption near.

;

PSALM XXIX.

GIVE glory to God in the highest! give praise,
Ye noble, ye mighty, with joyful accord;
All-wise are his counsels, all-perfect his ways;

In the beauty of holiness worship the Lord!
The voice of the Lord on the ocean is known,
The God of eternity thundereth abroad;
The voice of the Lord, from the depth of his throne,
Is terror and power;-all nature is aw'd.

At the voice of the Lord the cedars are bow'd,

And towers from their base into ruin are hurl'd; The voice of the Lord, from the dark-bosom'd cloud, Dissevers the lightning in flames o'er the world. See Lebanon bound, like the kid on his rocks, And wild as the unicorn Sirion appear: The wilderness quakes with the resonant shocks; The hinds cast their young in the travail of fear. The voice of the Lord through the calm of the wood Awakens its echoes, strikes light through its caves; The Lord sitteth King on the turbulent flood;

The winds are his servants, his servants the waves.

The Lord is the strength of his people; the Lord
Gives health to his people, and peace evermore;
Then throng to his temple, his glory record,
But, oh! when he speaketh, in silence adore.

PSALM XXX.

YEA, I will extol Thee,
Lord of life and light!
For thine arm upheld me,
Turn'd my foes to flight:

I implored thy succour,
Thou wert swift to save,
Heal my wounded spirit,
Bring me from the grave.

Sing, ye saints, sing praises!
Call his love to mind:
For a moment angry,
But for ever kind:
Grief may, like a stranger,
Through the night sojourn,
Yet shall joy to-morrow
With the sun return.

In my wealth I vaunted,

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Naught shall move me hence;"

Thou hadst made

my mountain

Strong in thy defence:

-Then thy face was hidden,
Trouble laid me low,

"Lord," I cried, most humbly,

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Why forsake me so?

"Would my blood appease Thee,

In atonement shed?
Can the dust give glory,—
Praise employ the dead?
Hear me, Lord! in mercy;
God, my helper, hear;"
-Long Thou didst not tarry,
Help and health were near.

Thou hast turn'd my mourning
Into minstrelsy,

Girded me with gladness,

Set from thraldom free: Thee my ransom'd powers Henceforth shall adore,Thee, my great Deliverer, Bless for evermore!

PSALM XXXIX.

LORD! let me know mine end,
My days, how brief their date,
That I may timely comprehend
How frail my best estate.

My life is but a span,

Mine age as naught with Thee; Man, in his highest honour, man

Is dust and vanity.

A shadow even in health,

Disquieted with pride,

Or rack'd with care, he heaps up wealth Which unknown heirs divide.

What seek I now, O Lord?

My hope is in thy name;
Blot out my sins from thy record,
Nor give me up to shame.

Dumb at thy feet I lie,

For Thou hast brought me low: Remove thy judgments, lest I die; I faint beneath thy blow.

At thy rebuke, the bloom

Of man's vain beauty flies;

And grief shall, like a moth, consume
All that delights our eyes.

Have pity on my fears,

Hearken to my request,

Turn not in silence from my tears,

But give the mourner rest.

A stranger, Lord! with Thee,

I walk on pilgrimage,

Where all my fathers once, like me,

Sojourn'd from age to age.

O spare me yet, I pray !
Awhile my strength restore,
Ere I am summon'd hence away,
And seen on earth no more.

PSALM XLII.-No. 1.

As the hart, with eager looks,
Panteth for the water-brooks,
So my soul, athirst for Thee,
Pants the living God to see:
When, O when, with filial fear,
Lord! shall I to Thee draw near?

Tears my food by night, by day
Grief consumes my strength away;
While his craft the Tempter plies,
"Where is now thy God?" he cries;
This would sink me to despair,
But I pour my soul in prayer.

For in happier times I went
Where the multitude frequent:
I, with them, was wont to bring
Homage to thy courts, my King!
I, with them, was wont to raise
Festal hymns on holy days.

soul?

Why art thou cast down, my
God, thy God, shall make thee whole :

Why art thou disquieted?

God shall lift thy fallen head;
And his countenance benign
Be the saving health of thine.