3 The Lord supports our sinking days,
And guides our giddy youth;
Sacred and just are all his ways,
And all his words are truth.

4 His mercy never shall remove
From men of hearts sincere;
Should Satan rage, and kings reprove,
The saints shall persevere.

5 His sword the victory shall achieve,*
And pierce his foes with pain;
But they, who first in Christ believe,
Shall ne'er believe in vain.

6 My lips shall praise the living Lord,
Who cools the raging flame;
Ye suffering saints, with one accord,
For ever bless his name.

PSALM 146. L. M.

Praise to God for his goodness and truth. 1 PRAISE ye the Lord, 'tis sweet employ To sing and tell the world our joy; My soul shall join the adoring throng, And praise Elohim in my song.

2 I'll praise him in a sacred ode,

Now while the flesh is mine abode;
But when I land on Canaan's shore,
My happy soul shall praise him more.
3 Why should I make a man my trust?
Princes must die and turn to dust,
Their help is vain, their vital breath,
Their pomp and power depart at death.

4 Happy the man, whose hopes rely
On Israel's God; he made the sky,

* To acheive, to perform, to finish, to gain.

And earth and seas with all their train, And none shall find his promise vain. 5 The Lord is glorious in his deeds, He saves the 'opprest, the poor he feeds, He makes the noise of war to cease, And sends the prisoner sweet release. 6 The Lord to sight restores the blind, The Lord supports the sinking mind, He helps the stranger when exiľ'd, The widow and the friendless child. 7 He loves his saints, he knows them well, But turns the wicked down to hell; Thy God, O Zion, ever reigns, Praise him in everlasting strains.

PSALM 146. As the 113th.

God is worthy of our praise and trust. 1 I'LL praise my Maker with my breath, And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall my nobler powers employ; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life and thought and being last, In yonder world of heavenly joy.

2 Why should I make a man my trust?
Princes must die and turn to dust,

Vain is the power of kings to save;
Their breath departs, and in a day,
Their thoughts for ever pass away,
And perish with them in the grave.
8 Happy the man, whose hopes rely
On Israel's God; he made the sky,

And earta and seas, with all their train;
The Lord is glorious in his deeds,
He saves the 'opprest, the poor he feeds,
And none shall find his promise vain.

4 The Lord to sight restores the blind The Lord supports the sinking mind,

He soothes the saint when bow'd with grief;
He sets the prisoner loose, the exil'd,
The widow and the friendless child,
Look up to God and find relief.

5 He loves his saints, he knows them well,
But turns the wicked down to hell,
Thy God, O Zion, ever reigns;
Let men of every tongue and age,
In this exalted work engage,

Praise him in everlasting strains.

6 I'll praise him while he lends me breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall my nobler powers employ;
My days of praise shall ne'er be past,
While life and thought and being last
In yonder world of heavenly joy.

PSALM 147. Part 1. L. M.
The hiding place.

1 PRAISE ye the Lord, 'tis good to sing
The praise of our eternal King,

It well becomes the saints to raise
Their hearts and voices in his praise.

2 Jesus, the King of saints, comes down,
To build his church, to wear his crown;
Israel dispers'd the Lord invites,

And in one head the whole unites. 3 The Lord has founded in the west, An hiding place for man opprest; Come out, ye saints, and thither run, The judgments of the Lord to shun. 4 The Lord his sufferers will console, He makes their broken spirits whole,

While in their wounds he pours his balm, Their minds become an heavenly calm. 5 He form'd the stars, those heavenly flames, He counts their numbers, calls their names, And in galaxy* views afar,

Our bright and constellated star.

6 Great is the Lord, and great in power,
When storms in wild commotion lower,
His hand directs the flying cloud,
And pours a tempest on the proud.
7 Jehovah let the nations seek,

His powerful hand upholds the meek;
And while he well rewards the just,
He treads the 'oppressor in the dust.
PSALM 147. Part 2. L. M.

God is sovreign and absolute. 1 SING to the Lord, ye saints, aloud, Who spreads o'er heaven his watʼry cloud, There he prepares the fruitful rain, Nor lets the drops descend in vain. 2 He makes the grass the hills to 'adorn, He clothes the smiling fields with corn, He gives to man and beast their food, And feeds the raven's hungry brood. 3 But what can God of creatures need? The vigorous man, the warlike steed, The sprightly wit, the nervous limb, Are all too mean delights for him. 4 Yet saints are fair in Jesus' sight,

He views his children with delight,

He sees their hopes, their love he knows,
And on them heaven at last bestows.

PSALM 147. Part 3. L. M.

The new Jerusalem.

1 PRAISE ye the Lord, let Zion raise A thousand voices in his praise, While every street with joy resounds And plenty thro the land abounds. 2 The God of Israel guards our coast, In Israel's God we make our boast; God is our strength in every gate, Head of the church, and Rock of state. 3 Far from the trumpet's dire alarm, Our children sleep secure from harm, He feeds them with his finest wheat, And adds his blessing to their meat. 4 The changing seasons God ordains, At his command it shines or rains, His flakes of snow like wooi descend, And well the springing corn defend. 5 He cheers the plants with summer dews, He frost like ashes 'round us strews, His icy bands the rivers hold,

And shivering mortals dread the cold. 6 He bids the vernal breezes blow, The streams dissolve, the waters flow; The sun at midday high appears, And swiftly rolls along our years. 7 These are thy works, almighty King, But nobler works than these we sing, For at the word of thy command The gospel overspread our land. 8 Thy word, O Jesus, swiftly runs, And far outshines a thousand suns; No land is half so blest as ours, On which the Lord his glory pours.