When shall I feel thofe heav'nly rays
That chafe my fears away?

2 How long fhall my poor lab'ring fou! Wrestle and toil in vain ?

Thy word can all my foes controul,
And eafe my raging pain.

3 See how the prince of darkness tries
All his malicious arts,

He spreads a mist around my eyes,
And throws his fiery darts.

4 Be thou my fun, and thou my shield, My foul in fafety keep;

5

Make hafte, before mine eyes are feal'd
In death's eternal fleep.

How would the tempter boaft aloud
If I become his prey?

Behold the fons of hell grow proud
At thy fo long delay.

6 But they shall fly at thy rebuke,
And Satan hide his head;

He knows the terrors of thy look,
And hears thy voice with dread.
7 Thou wilt difplay that fov'reign grace,
Where all my hopes have hung;
I fhall employ my lips in praise,
And vict'ry shall be fung.

PSALM XIV. First part.
By nature all men are finners.
NOOLS, in their hearts, believe and say,
"That all religion's vain,

"There is no God that reigns on high, Or minds th' affairs of men."

2 From thoughts fo dreadful and profane
Corrupt difcourfe proceeds;
And in their impious hands are found
Abominable deeds.

3 The Lord. from his celeftial throne,
Look'd down on things below,
To find the man that fought his grace,
Or did his justice know.

4 By nature all are gone aftray,
Their practice all the fame;

There's none that fears his Maker's hand, There's none that loves his name.

5 Their tongues are us'd to speak deceit, Their flanders never cease:

How fwift to mifchief are their feet!
Nor know the paths of peace.

6 Such feeds of fin (that bitter root)
In ev'ry heart are found;

Nor can they bear diviner fruit,
Till grace refine the ground.

A

PSALM XIV. Second part.
The folly of perfecutors.

RE finners now fo fenfelefs grown,
That they the faints devour?
And never worship at thy throne,
Nor fear thine awful pow'r?

2 Great God, appear to their furprize,
Reveal thy dreadful name;

Let them no more thy wrath despise,
Nor turn our hope to shame,

3 Doft thou not dwell among the just
And yet our foes deride,

That we should make thy name our truft;
Great God, confound their pride..

4 O that the joyful day were come
To finish our distress!

When God fhall bring his children home,
Our fongs fhall never cease.

PSALM XV. Common Metre.

Characters of a faint, or a citizen of Zion: or, The qualifications of a Chriftian.

I

7HO fhall inhabit in thy hill,

WHO

O God of holiness?

Whom will the Lord admit to dwell
So near his throne of grace?

2 The man that walks in pious ways,
And works with righteous hands;
That trufts his Maker's promises,
And follows his commands.

3 He speaks the meaning of his heart,
Nor flanders with his tongue;
Will fcarce believe an ill report,
Nor do his neighbour wrong.

4 The wealthy finner he contemns,
Loves all that fear the Lord;
And tho' to his own hurt he fwears,
Still he performs his word.

His hands difdain a golden bribe,

And never gripe the poor;

This man fhall dwell with God on earth,

And find his heav'n fecure.

PSALM XV. Long Metre.

37

Religion and justice, goodness and truth; or, Duties to God and man: or, The qualifications of a Chrif

tian.

I 7HO fhall afcend thy heav'nly place,

WHO

Great God, and dwell before thy face?

The man that minds religion now,

And humbly walks with God below.

2 Whole hands are pure, whofe heart is clean,
Whofe lips still speak the thing they mean;
No flanders dwell upon his tongue;
He hates to do his neighbour wrong.
3 [Scarce will he truft an ill report,
Nor vent it to his neighbour's hurt:
Sinners of ftate he can defpife,
But faints are honour'd in his eyes.]
4 [Firm to his word he ever stood,
And always makes his promife good:
Nor dares to change the thing he wears,
Whatever pain or lofs he bears.]

5 [He never deals in bribing gold,

And mourns that justice should be fold;
While others gripe and grind the poor,
Sweet charity attends his door.]

6 He loves his enemies, and prays
For those that curfe him to his face;
And doth to all men ftill the fame
That he would hope or wish from them

7 Yet when his holiest works are done,
His foul depends on grace alone:
This is the man thy face fhall fee,
And dwell for ever, Lord, with thee.

PSALM XVI. First Part. Long Metre.

Confeffion of our poverty; and Saints the best com pany: or, Good works profit men, not God. Referve me, Lord, ia time of need,

P

For fuccour to thy throne I flee,
But have no merits there to plead;
My goodness cannot reach to thee.
2 Oft have my heart and tongue confeft,
How empty and how poor I am;
My praise can never make thee bleft,
Nor add new glories to thy name.

3 Yet Lord, the faints on earth may reap
Some profit by the good we do;
Thefe are the company I keep,

These are the choiceft friends I know.

4 Let others chufe the fons of mirth
To give a relish to their wine,
I love the men of heav'nly birth,
Whofe thoughts and language are divine.

PSALM XVI. Second Part. Long Metre.
Chrift's all fufficiency.

H Who hafte to leek fome idol god;

OW faft their guilt and forrows rife,

I will not tafte their facrifice,

Their off'rings of forbidden blood.

2 My God provides a richer cup,
And nobler food to live upon,
He for my life has offer'd up
Jefus his best beloved fon.

3. His love is my perpetual feaft;
By day his counfels guide me right: