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Now at his feet fubmit your crowns,
Rejoice and tremble at his name.

9 With humble love addrefs the Son,
Left he grow angry, and ye die;

His wrath will burn to worlds unknown,
If ye provoke his jealoufy.

10 His ftorms fhall drive you quick to hell!
He is a God, and ye but duft;

Happy the fouls that know him well,
And make his grace their only truft.

PSALM III. Common Metre.

:

Doubts and fears fuppreffed or, God our defence from fin and Satan.

3

MY God, how many are my fears!

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How faft my foes increase!
Confpiring my eternal death,
They break my present peace.
2 The lying tempter would perfuade
There's no relief in heav'n;
And all my fwelling fins appear
Too big to be forgiv'n.

But thou, my glory and my strength,
Shalt on the tempter tread;
Shalt filence all my threat'ning guilt,
And raise my drooping head.

4 [I cry'd, and from his holy hill
He bow'd a lift'ning ear;
I call'd my Father and my God,
And he fubdu'd my fear.

5

He fhed foft flumbers on mine eyes,
In spite of all my foes;

I 'woke, and wonder'd at the grace
Which guarded my repose.]

6 What though the hofts of death and hell
All arm'd against me ftood!

Terrors no more fhall fhake
My refuge is my God.

my foul:

7 Arife, O Lord, fulfil thy grace,
While I thy glory fing:

My God has broke the ferpent's teeth,
And death has loft his fting.

8 Salvation to the Lord belongs;
His arm alone can fave:

Bleffings attend thy people here,
And reach beyond the grave.

PSALM III. I-5. Long Metre.
A Morning Pfalm.

LORD, how many are my foes,

In this weak state of flesh and blood!

My peace they daily difcompofe,

But my
2 Tir'd with the burdens of the day,
To thee I rais'd an ev'ning cry:
Thou heard'ft when I began to pray,
And thine almighty help was nigh..
3 Supported by thine heav'nly aid,
I laid me down and flept fecure :
Not death fhould make my heart afraid,
Though I fhould wake and rife no more.
4 But God fuftain'd me all the night;
Salvation doth to God belong :
He rais'd my head to fee the light,
And makes his praife my morning fong

defence and hope is God.

PSALMIV. 1,2,3,5,6,7. Long Metre. Hearing of prayer; or, God our portion, and Christ our

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hope.

GOD of grace and right'oufnefs,
Hear and attend when I complain :
Thou haft enlarg'd me in diftrefs,
Bow down a gracious ear again.
2 Ye fons of men, in vain ye try
To turn my glory into fhame:
How long will fcoffers love to lie,
And dare reproach my Saviour's name?

3

4

Know that the Lord divides his faints
From all the tribes of men befide;
He hears the cry of penitents

For the dear fake of Chrift who dy'd.
When our obed'ent hands have done
A thoufand works of right'oufness,
We put our truft in God alone,
And glory in his pard'ning grace.
5 Let the unthinking many fay,
Who will bestow fome earthly good?
But, Lord, thy light and love we pray;
Our fouls defire this heav'nly food.
6 Then fhall my cheerful pow'rs rejoice
At grace and favour fo divine;

Nor will I change my happy choice
For all their corn and all their wine.

PSALM IV. 3,4,5,8. Common Metre.
An Evening Pfalm.

LORD, thou wilt hear me when I pray ;

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am forever thine,

I fear before thee all the day,
Nor would I dare to fin.

2 And while I reft my weary head,
From cares and bus'nefs free,
'Tis fweet converfing on my bed
With my own heart and thee.
I pay this ev'ning facrifice;

3

And when my work is done, Great God, my faith and hope relies Upon thy grace alone.

4 Thus, with my thoughts compos'd to peace, I'll give mine eyes to fleep;

Thy hand in fafety keeps my days,
And will my flumbers keep.

PSALM V.

Common Metre.

For the Lord's-day morning.

LORD

ORD, in the morning thou shalt hear
My voice afcending high :

To thee will I direct my pray'r,

To thee lift up mine eye.

2 Up to the hills, where Chrift is gone,
To plead for all his faints,
Presenting at his Father's throne
Our fongs and our complaints.

3

Thou art a God, before whofe fight
The wicked fhall not ftand:
Sinners fhall ne'er be thy delight,
Nor dwell at thy right hand.

4 But to thy houfe will I refort,
To taste thy mercies there;
I will frequent thine holy court,
And worship in thy fear.

5

O may thy Spirit guide my feet
In ways of right'oufnefs!
Make every path of duty straight
And plain before my face.

PAUSE.

6 My watchful enemies combine
To tempt my feet aftray;
They flatter with a base design,
To make my foul their prey.

7 Lord, crush the ferpent in the duft,
And all his plots destroy;

While thofe, who in thy mercy trust,
For ever fhout for joy.

8 The men, who love and fear thy name,
Shall fee their hopes fulfill'd;

I

The mighty God will compass them
With favour as a fhield.

PSALM VI.

Common Metre.

Complaint in fickness: or, difenfes healed.

N anger, Lord, rebuke me not,
Withdraw the dreadful ftorm;

IN

Nor let thy fury grow fo hot
Against a feeble worm.

2 My foul's bow'd down with heavy cares, My flesh with pain opprefs'd;

My couch is witnefs to my tears,
My tears forbid my reft.

3 Sorrow and pain wear out my days;
I waste the night with cries,
Counting the minutes as they pass,
Till the flow morning rife.

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