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5 Mark this, ye wicked Fools, left I

Let all my Bolts of Vengeance fly,
Whilst none thall dare your Cause to own:

Who praises me, due Honour gives;
And to the Man that justly lives,
My strong Salvation shall be shown.

PS A L M LI.
I HAVE Mercy, Lord, on me,

as thou wert ever kind;
Let me, opprest with Loads of Guilt,

thy wonted Mercy find.
2 War off my foul Offence,

and cleanse me from my sin; For i confess my Crime, and fee

how great my Guilt has been. 3 Against thee, Lord, alone,

and only in thy Sight,
Have I transgress’d; and tho' condemnd,

must own thy Judgments right, 4 Make me to hear with Joy

thy kind forgiving Voice; That so the Bones which thou hast broke,

may with freth Strength rejoice. 5 Blot out my crying Sins,

nor me in Anger view; Create in me a Heart that's clean, an upright Mind renew.

PSA L M LI. P. 2. I WITHDRAW not, Lord, thy Help, nor cait me from thy Sight;

Nor

Nor let thy Holy Spirit take

it's everlasting Flight. 2 The Joy thy Favour gives

let me again obtain; And let thy Spirit's firm Support

my fainting Soul sustain, 3 So I thy righteous Ways

to Sinners will impart; Whilft my Advice shall wicked Men

to thy just Laws convert. 4 Do thou unlock my Lips,

with Sorrow clos'd, and Shame; So thall my Mouth thy wond'rous Praise to all the World proclaim,

PSALM LVII. 1 BE thou, O God, exalted high;

And, as thy Glory fills the Sky, So let it be on Earth display'd,

'Till thou art here, as there, obey'd. 20 God, my Heart is fix'd, 'tis bent

It's thankful Tribute to present;
And, with my Heart, my Voice I'll raise

To thee, my God, in Songs of Praise.
3 Awake, my Glory; Harp and Lute,
No longer let your Strings be mute;
And I, my tuneful Part to take,
Will with the early Davn awake.
4 Thy Praises, Lord, I wül resound

To all the list’ning Nations round:
Thy Mercy highest Heav'n transcends;
Thy Truth beyond the Clouds extends.

5 Be thou, O God, exalted high;

And, as thy Glory fills the sky,
So let it be on Earth display'd,
Till thou art here, as there, obey'd.

PSA L M LXII.

IN
N God, ye People, always trust;

Before his Throne pour out your Hearts; For God, the Merciful and Juft,

His timely Aid to us imparts.
2 The Vulgar fickle are and frail;

The Great dissemble and betray;
And, laid in Truth's impartial Scale,

The lightest Things will both out-weigh. 3

Then trust not in oppressive Ways;
By Spoil and Rapine grow not vain;
Nor let your Hearts, if Wealth increase,

Be set too much upon your Gain.
4 For God has oft his Will express'd;

And I this Truth have fully known;
To be of boundless Pow'r possess’d,

Belongs, of Right, to God alone. 5 Tho' Mercy is his darling Grace,

In which he chiefly takes Delight;
Yet will he all the human Race,
According to their Works requite.

PSA L M LXIII.
I GOD, my gracious God, to thee

My morning Pray’rs shall offer'd be;

For

For thee my thirsty Soul does pant; My faintirg Flesh implores thy Grace, Within this dry and barren Place,

Where I refreshing Waters want. 2 O! to my longing Eyes once more, That View of glorious Pow'r restore,

Which thy majestic House displays: Because to me thy wond'rous Love, Than Life itself does dearer prove,

My Lips shall always speak thy Praise. 3 My Life, while I thai Life enjoy, In biefling God I will employ,

With lifted Hands adore his Name: My Soul's Content shall be as great, As theirs who choicest Dainties eat,

While I with Joy his Praile proclaim. 4 When down I lie, sweet Sleep to find, Thou, Lord, art present to my Mind;

And when I wake in Dead of Night: Because thou still doft Succour bring, Beneath the Shadow of thy Wing

I rest with Safety and Delight.

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PSA L M LXV.
FOR thee, O God, our constant Praise

In Sion waits, thy chosen Seat;
Our promis'd Altars there we'll raise,

And all our zealous Vows compleat. 20 thou, who to my humble Pray's Did'st always bend thy lift'ning Ear; To thee shall all Mankind repair, And at thy gracious Throne appear.

3 Our

1

3 Our Sins (tho' numberless) in Vain

To stop thy flowing Mercy try;
Whilst thou o'erlook'it the guilty Stain,

And washest cut the crimson Dye.
4 Bleft is the Man, who, near thee plac'd,

Within thy facred Dwelling lives!
Whilst we, at humbler Distance, taste
The vast Delights thy Temple gives.

PSALM LXV. P. 2.
THOU,Lord,

fromout thyboundlessStore, With Rain reliev'st the thirsty Ground: Mak’st Lands, that barren where before,

With Corn and useful Fruits abound. 2 On rising Ridges down it pours,

And ev'ry furrow'd Valley fills;
Thou mak’ft them soft with genile Show'rs,

In which a blest Increase distils.
3 Thv Goodness does the circling Year,

With fresh Returns of Plenty crown;
And where thy glorious Paths appear,

Thy fruitful Clouds drop Fatness down. 4 They drop on barren Forests, chang'd

By them to Pastures fresh and green:
The Hills about, in Order rang'a,

In beauteous Robes of Joy are seen.
5 Large Flocks with fleecy Wool adorn

The cheerful Downs; the Vallies bring
A plenteous Crop of full-ear's Corn,
And seem for Joy to shout and sing.

PSALAT

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