3 The heavenly heritage is theirs, Their portion and their home;

Their guardian now, he makes them heirs.
Of better blifs to come.

4 Ne'er will I trust the world again,
Whether it smile or frown;
Deceitful fmiles, and terrors vain,
In folly both are fown.

5 The haughty finner have I feen,
Nor fearing man nor God,
Like a tall bay tree, fair and green,
Spreading his arms abroad.

6 I looked, he vanished from the ground,
Destroyed by hand unfeen;

Nor leaf, nor branch, nor root was found Where all that pride had been.

7 But mark the man of righteousness, His feveral fteps attend;

True pleasure runs through all his ways, And peaceful is his end.

LXXVI. PSALM XXXIX. C. M. WATTS.

I

TEA

The Vanity of Man as mortal.

EACH me the measure of my days,
Thou Maker of my frame;

I would furvey life's narrow space,
And learn how frail I am.

2 Our life, how idle is the boast!
A point in moving time:
Man is but vanity and duft,
In all his flower and prime.

3 See the vain race of mortals move,
Like fhadows o'er the plain,
They rage and ftrive, defire and love,
But all the noife is vain.

4 Some walk in honour's gaudy show,
Some dig for golden ore,

5

They toil for heirs they know not who,
And straight are feen no more.

What fhould I wifh or wait for then
From creatures, earth or duft?
Their promises at beft are vain,

They cheat our dearest trust.

6. Return, my foul, to better things, Thy fond defires recall

;

Rise above earth on hope's ftrong wings,
And be thy God thy all.

LXXVII. PSALM XXXIX. L. M. STEELE.

I

2

3

The fame.

LMIGHTY Maker of my frame,

Α
A Teach me the measure of my days,

Teach me to know how frail I am,
And spend the remnant to thy praise.

My days are shorter than a span,
A very point my life appears;
How frail at beft is dying man!
How vain are all his hopes and fears!

Vain his ambition, noise and show!
Vain are the cares which rack his mind!
He heaps up treasures mixed with woe;
He dies, and leaves them all behind.

4

5

6

I

O be a nobler portion mine:
My God, I bow before thy throne,
Earth's fleeting treasures I refign,
And fix my hope on thee alone.

Beneath the chaftening of thy hand
Let not my heart or tongue repine;
But filent and fubmiffive bend,
And bear, because the ftroke is thine.

Save me by thy protecting arm
From all my fins, my heart renew;
May fin no more my fears alarm,
Nor hide thy mercy from
from my view.

LXXVIII.

PSALM XL. Com. Met.

The Miffion of CHRIST the Light of the World.

B

EHOLD! I come, the Saviour cries,
To vifit man's abode!

I come, with healing on my wings,
With truth and peace from God!
2 Oh welcome, welcome to our world,
Thou friend of God and man!
With humble joyful hearts we hail
Thy wife redeeming plan.
3 Thy truth illuminates our minds,
Darkness before thee flies;

Another face of things we view,
A new creation rife.

4 Let there be light; and light sprang forth,

Obedient to its Lord.

Let there be light to reafon's eye,
God fpake, and fent his word.

1

PSALM

LXXIX. PSALM XLI. Long Met. MERRICK.

I

B

Bleffing on the charitable Man.

LEST, who with generous pity glows, Who learns to feel another's woes, Bows to the poor man's wants his ear, And wipes the helpless orphan's tear. 2 In every want, in every woe, Himfelf thy pity, Lord, fhall know ; Or bleffing shall his fteps attend, Or forrow work to be his friend..

3

4

Affaulted by disease and pain,
Thy aid his spirit shall sustain,
Raife on thy arm his finking head,
And fmooth with gentleft hand his bed.

So God to me his bleffing deal,
As I have helped others' weal;
And in my hour of greatest need,
May mercy fhewn for mercy plead.

LXXX. PSALM XLI. Long Met. WATTS.

B'

The fame.

.I LEST is the man, whofe bowels move, And melt with pity to the poor;

2

Whose foul in fympathifing love
Feels what his fellow-men endure.
His heart contrives for their relief
More than his fingle hand effects;
Administering to every grief,

He counfels, fooths, condoles, protects.

3

4

That pity fhall his God afford
To him with bleffings on his head;
Though famine, peftilence or fword
Around him multiply their dead.

Or if with human fuffering tried,
Suffering fhall all his foul refine;
Sweet hope his refuge shall provide,
And minifter a blifs divine.

1

LXXXI. PSALM XLII. Long Met. PATRICK. Communion with GOD, the Source of Confolation and virtuous Joy.

2

3

4

5

O

H God, my best, my dearest hope,
To thee afcends my ardent prayer;
No chafed hart e'er panted more
For the cool ftream's refreshing air.

Thy mercy and thy peace difplay;
Guide me by thy unerring light;
Without thy prefence, O my God,
All is a dark and cheerlefs night.

When I have fought thee, I have found
My foul above its forrows rife ;
And ftill I feek, and still shall find
Thy prefence all my fears chaftife.
Inspired by thee to higher views,
I tread upon each low defire :
Thou fittedft me for nobler good;
To nobler good I will aspire.

Away then all my gloomy thoughts!
Who feeds them, cherishes his foes;
They further not one good I wish,
Nor fhall they trouble my repofe..

6 Though