Ver. I would his juftice magnify,

His faithfulnefs adore,

Revere his name; but fiill would I,

Like hell myself abhor.

Confeffing all my faults and flaws,
That made him lift the rod,
I'd to my Judge commit my cause,
Refer myself to God.

By humble refignation bow'd

Down at his feet I'd ly;

And, through the Lamb's atoning blood,
Would for his mercy cry.

God's great Work in the Kingdom of CHRIST, and in bis Providence among Men; efpecially in fruftrating the Counfels of the proud, and favouring the Cause of the poor and bumble.

Job v. 9,-16.

9 GREAT things are done of God moft high,

Which finite fearch exceed;

Things numberlefs which ev'ry eye
With admiration feed.

His providence most marvellous,
When leaft 'tis underflood;

Yet ftill is juft and righteous,
Still merciful and good.

10 He fpreads his clouds upon the fkies,
Surprising to behold!

And forms his rain drops fhape and fize,
Into an unknown mold.

Then he his waters from on high,
Upon the mountains pours;

And on the valleys plenteoufly
He fheds prolific fhow'rs.

11 He fets the fervant that was low,
Into the mafter's place;

And wipes the tears of grief and wo
From off the mourner's face.

Ver. He difappoints the crafty men,

12

Their projects undermines;

He makes their deep devices vain,
And blafts their great defigns.

13 He takes his wife politic foes,
In their own craftinefs;
Their froward counfels overthrows,
That would his faints opprefs.
Against themselves he turns their arts,
Confounds their wicked fchemes;
Their proud and lofty hopes fubverts,
And fruftrates all their aims.

14 They, by their plots, themfelves benight,
And into darkness run;

Miftake their way, obfcure their light,
And grope for day at noon.

But God th' oppreffors rage o'rthrows,
Their fwords and fpears doth break;
And from the proud and mighty foes,
Protects the poor and weak.

16 Thus to the poor he kindly doth
Afford reviving hapes;

And then the black and bloody mouth
Of fierce injuftice ftóps.

The poor and humble are advanc'd,
To peace and fafety given;
And foes afham'd that fought against

The favourites of heaven.

SONG VIII.

Afflictions born well end well.

What great Things

GoD oft-times does for these that bumble themfelves under his chaftifing hand. Job v. 17,-26.

17 LO! happy is the man whom God,

In kindnefs, doth correct;

Then do not thou his chaft'ning rod,,
Contemptuoufly neglect.

18 His fkill binds up what he made fore,
By his incifion-knife;

He wounds and heals, and does reftore
From gates of death to life.

Ver. From numerous troubles, various woes,
He'll fave and fet thee free;

19

And order to a joyful close,

This fcene of mifery.

20 Thy life he'll guard with tender care,
When famine threatens death;

And from the raging fword thee fpare,
When war breaks out in wrath.

21 The pois'nous darts thrown at thy name,
From the invective tongue,

Shall neither wound thy ftablifh'd fame,
Nor do thy honour wrong.
God's hiding hand, when man difpraife,
The fland'ring tongue fhall curb;
Reproaches thy repute fhall raife,
Nor once thy peace disturb.

22 When grim deftruction, with her drove
Of woes, fhall fhake her fpear,
Her threats tremendous fhall but move
Thy laughter, not thy fear.

All nature reconcil'd difplays
Its care to give thee eafe,

When, thro' his grace, thy righteous ways
The God of nature please.

23 With thee fhall ftones, that load the field, Make league, thy part to take;

And favage beails, thy life to fhield,
A firm alliance make.

The fire, the air, the earth, the feas,

Each element with thee,

A lafting covenant of

Shall ftrictly ratify.

peace

24 Thy habitation thou fhalt know,
In quietnefs poffefs'd:

Thou shalt offencelefs come and go,
And find thy manfion blefs'd.

25 Thy offspring and profperity

Shall num'rous be and great;

Their increase like the grafs fhall be,
With beauteous flow'rs befet.

26

Ver. Thou in full age, ripe for the urn,
On death fhall chearful look,
As when a full-grown fhock of corn.
Invites the welcome hook.

27 Weigh these undoubted truths fedate,
And therein thou shalt find,
A fpring of confolation great,
To thy afflicted mind.

2

SONG IX.

Terrors of GOD invading the Soul. Job vi. 2, 3, 4.

THAT the grief furrounding me,

Were in a balance laid,

And my extreme calamity

Were now against it weigh'd!

Then let an equal judge appear,

His thoughts to fignify,

Which fcale the greatest weight does bear
He'd foon decide with me.

3 My croffes over-weigh my cries,
My loads of woe and pain
Exceed the pond'rous fand that lies
Around the ebbing main.

Unutterable are the groans,
My weary foul opprefs:
Nor have I words to fpeak my moans,
Or fhew my deep diftrefs.

4 The arrows of th' almighty God
Stick faft within my heart;

Each feft'ring wound burns up my blood,

And gives me deadly fmart.

Arrows, whofe heads like flaming eyes,
And pointed light'ning fhine;
Steep'd in the firongeft dregs and lees
Of fiery wrath divine.

The poifon thereof raging high,
Soon fpreads without controul;
Drinks up and drains my fpirits dry,
And eats into my foul.

H

Ver. God's threat'ning terrors all drawn out,

In order and array,

For battle, clofing me about,

Invade me every way.

SONG

X.

GOD ftooping to contend with Man admired, and bis
pardoning Mercy begged. Job vii. 17, 18. 20.

17 WHAT is man, that worthlefs wight!
O
That God fhould condefcend

To magnify him, and in might

With fuch a rufh contend!

On brittle man, from dufl brought forth,

Wilt thou indeed bestow

Such honour great! or, is he worth

Thy notice or thy blow?

Is fuch a mortal fit to be
The object of thy rage!
Wilt thou thy strong artillery
Against a worm engage?
Or if it is thy kindly aim,

By this thy chast'ning rod,
The wand'ring finner to reclaim,
And bring him back to God:
18 Still what is man, a bit of clay,
That fo inceffantly

Thou doft him vifit every day,

And every moment try.

20 Lord, I have finn'd, what fhall I do,
O thou preferver great?
Remit my gilt, remove my wo,
And all my faults forget.

SONG XI.

Good Counsel and good Hope given to the afflicted.
Job viii. 5,-7.
5 IF thou who feels the hand of God,
His juftice wouldst adore;

And, timely humbled by the rod,
His mercy wouldft implore;