10 His ftorms hall drive you quick to hell; He is a God, and ye but duft:
Happy the fouls that know him well, And make his grâce their only trust.
PSALM III. (C.M.)
Doubts and fears fuppreft: or, God our defence From fin and Satan. ■ My God, how many are my fears! How faft my foes increafe! Confpiring my eternal death,
They break my prefent peace. 2 The lying tempter would perfuade There's no relief in heaven; And all my fwelling fins appear Too big to be forgiven.
3 But thou, my glory and my strength, Shalt on the tempter tread, Shall 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 called my Father and my God, And he subdu'd my fear.
He med foft flombers on mine eyes, In fpite of all my foes;
I'woke, and wonder'd at the grace That guarded my repose.]
6 What tho' the hofts of death and hell All arm'd against me food, Terrors no more fhall thake my foul; My refuge is my God.
7 Arife, O Lord, fulfil thy grace, While I thy glory fing:
My God hath broke the ferpent's teeth, And death hath loft his fting..
PSALMV. (C.M.) For the Lord's day morning.
I LORD, 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, Prefenting 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 tafte 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 righteousness! Make ev'ry path of duty straight And plain before my feet,
My watchful enemies.combine To tempt my feet aftray: They flatter with a bafe defign To make my foul their prey.
7 Lord, crush the ferpent in the dust, And all his plots destroy;
While thofe that in thy mercy truft, For ever fhout for joy.
The men that love and fear thy name, Shall fee their hopes fulfill'd;
The mighty God will compafs them With favour as a fhield.
PSALM VI. (C.M.) Complaint in fickness: or, diseases bealed. IN anger, Lord, rebuke me not, Withdraw the dreadful storm; 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 oppreft; My couch is witness 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.
4 Shall I be ftill tormented more? My eyes confum'd with grief? How long, my God, how long before Thine hand affords relief?
5 He hears when duft and ashes speak, He pities all our groans; He faves us for his mercy's fake, And heals our broken bones.
6 The virtue of his fov'reign word Reftores our fainting breath; For filent graves praife not the Lord, Nor is he known in death.
PSALM VI. (L.M.) Temptation in fickness overcome.
1 LORD, I can suffer thy rebukes, When thou with kindness doft chastife; But thy fierce wrath I cannot bear, O let it not against me rife.
When to thy works on high, I raise my wond'ring eyes, And fee the moon, complete in light, Adorn the darkfome fkies. When I furvey the ftars,
And all their fhining forms;
Lord, what is man! that worthlefs thing, Akin to duft and worms.
4 Lord, what is worthlefs man! That thou fhould't love him fo? Next to thine angels is he plac'd, And lord of all below.
5 Thy honours crown his head, While beafts like flaves obey, And birds that cut the air with wings, And fish that cleave the fea.
6 How rich thy bounties are ! And wond'rous are thy ways:
Of duft and worms thy pow'r can frame A monument of praife.
7 [Out of the mouths of babes
And fucklings, thou canst draw. Surprifing honours to thy name, And ftrike the world with awe.
8 O Lord, our heav'nly King, Thy name is all divine;
Thy glories round the earth are spread, And o'er the heav'ns they fhine.]
rift's condefcenfien and glorification: or, God
LORD, our God, How' wondrous great Is thine exalted name!
The glories of thy heav'nly ftate Let men and babes proclaim.
2 When I behold thy works on high, The moon that rules the night, And ftars that well adorn the sky, Those moving worlds of light:
3 Lord, what is man, or all his race, Who dwells fo far below,
That thou fhould'ft vifit him with grace, And love his nature fo?
4 That thine eternal Son fhould bear To take a mortal form, Made lower than his angels are, To fave a dying worm!
5 [Yet while he liv'd on earth unknown, And men would not adore;
Th' obedient feas and fishes own His Godhead and his pow'r.
6 The waves lay fpread beneath his feet, And fish at his command Bring their large fhoals to Peter's net, And tribute to his hand.
7 Thefe leffer glories of thy Son Shone thro' the fleshly cloud : Now we behold him on his throne, And men confefs him God.] 8 Let him be crown'd with majefty, Who bow'd his head to death; And be his honours founded high," By all things that have breath.
9 Jefus, our Lord, how wond'rous gree Is thine exalted name!
The glories of thy heav'nly state Let the whole earth proclaim.
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