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3 My heart did glow, which working thoughts Did hot and restless make;
And warm reflections fann'd the fire,
5 My life, thou know'st, is but a span,
6 Man like a shadow vainly walks,
7 Why then should I on worthless toys With anxious care attend?
On thee alone my steadfast hope
8, 9 Forgive my sins, nor let me scorn'd
For I was dumb, and murmur'd not,
10 The dreadful burden of thy wrath
11 For when thou chast'nest man for sin
12 Lord, hear my cry, accept my tears,
13 O spare me yet a little time,
Waited meekly for the Lord,
And heard from heav'n my humble cry.
2 He took me from the dismal pit,
When founder'd deep in miry clay;
And suffer'd not my steps to stray.
3 The wonders he for me has wrought
To hopes of like deliv'rance raise.
And hates the hypocrite's disguise.
The pow'r of numbers, speech, and thought. 6 I've learnt, that thou hast not desir'd Off'rings and sacrifice alone; Nor blood of guiltless beasts requir'd For man's transgression to atone. 7 I therefore come-come to fulfil
The oracles thy books impart : 8 'Tis my delight to do thy will;
Thy law is written in my heart.
9 In full assemblies I have told
Thy truth and righteousness at large;
From utt'ring what thou gav'st in charge. 10 Nor kept within my breast confin'd
Thy faithfulness and saving grace;
That all might that and truth embrace.
To others, Lord, extend to me;
Thy truth my safe protection be. 12 For I with troubles am distress'd,
Too vast and numberless to bear;
That plunge and sink me to despair. 13 As soon, alas! may I recount
The hairs on this afflicted head:
14 But, Lord, to my relief draw near,
And add to that deliv'rance speed. 15 Confusion on their heads return,
Who to destroy my soul combine;
16 Their doom let desolation be,
With shame their malice be repaid, Who mock'd my confidence in thee, And sport of my affliction made: 17 While those, who humbly seek thy face, To joyful triumphs shall be rais'd; And all who prize thy saving grace
With me resound, The Lord be prais'd. 18 Thus, wretched though I am and poor, Of me th' Almighty Lord takes care; Thou, God, who only canst restore, To my relief with speed repair.
HAPPY the man whose tender care
When he's by trouble compass'd round
2 The Lord his life, with blessings crown'd, In safety shall prolong;
And disappoint the will of those
3 If he, in languishing estate,
Oppress'd with sickness lie;
And inward strength supply. 4 Secure of this, to thee, my God, I thus my pray'r address'd : "Lord, for thy mercy, heal ray soul, "Though I have much transgress'd." 5 My cruel foes, with sland'rous words, Attempt to wound my fame; "When shall he die, (say they,) and men "Forget his very name?"
6 Suppose they formal visits make,
They gather mischief in their hearts,
7, 8 With private whispers such as these
10 But thou my sad and wretched state
May meet their just reward.
2 For thee, my God, the living God,
3 Tears are my constant food, while thus
"Delnded wretch! where's now thy God?
4 I sigh whene'er my musing thoughts
When I advanc'd with songs of praise
5 Why restless, why cast down, my soul?
His aid for thee, and change these sighs
6 My soul's cast down, O
On thee and Sion still;
7 One trouble calls another on,
And bursting o'er my head,
8 But when thy presence, Lord of life,
9 God of my strength, how long shall 1,
to My heart is pierc'd, as with a sword, Whilst thus my foes upbraid,
"Vain boaster, where is now thy God? "And where his promis'd aid?" 11 Why restless, why cast down, my soul? Hope still, and thou shalt sing The praise of him who is thy God, Thy health's eternal spring.
JUST Judge of heav'n, against my foes
That in deceit and wrong delight. 2 Since thou art still my only stay,
Why leav'st thou me in deep distress? Why go I mourning all the day,
Whilst me insulting foes oppress! 3 Let me with light and truth be blest, Be these my guides, and lead the way, Till on thy holy hill I rest,
And in thy sacred temple pray. 4 Then will I there fresh altars raise To God, who is my only joy;
And well-tun'd harps, with songs of praise, Shall all my grateful hours employ. 5 Why then cast down, my soul? and why So much opprest with anxious care? On God, thy God, for aid rely, Who will thy ruin'd state repair.
Lord, our fathers oft have told
Thy wonders in their days perform'd,
2 How thou, to plant them here, didst drive
3 For, not their courage, nor their sword, To them possession gave;
Nor strength, that from unequal force