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Give ear, and to the cry
Of my incesant pray'rs afford
Thy hearing graciously.
7 I in the day of my distress
Will call on thee for aid;
For thou wilt grant me free acces,
And answer what I pray'd.
8 Like thee among the Gods is none,
O Lord, nor any works
Of all that other Gods have done
Like to thy glorious works.
9 The nations all whom thou hast made
Shall come, and all shall frame
To bow them low before thee, Lord,
And glorify thy name.
Io For great thou art, and wonders great
By thy strong hand are done,
Thou in thy everlasting seat
Remainest God alone.
11 Teach me, O Lord, thy way most right,
I in thy truth will bide,
To fear thy name my heart unite,
So shall it never slide.
12 Thee will I praise, O Lord my God,
Thee honor and adore
With my whole heart, and blaze abroad
Thy name for evermore.
13 For great thy mercy is tow'rd me,
I MONG the holy mountains high
Is his foundation fast,
There seated is his sančiuary,
His temple there is plac'd, 2 Sion's fair gates the Lord loves more 5
Than all the dwellings fair
Of Jacob's land, though there be store.
And all within his care.
3 City of God, most glorious things
Of thee abroad are spoke;
4 I mention Egypt, where proud kings
Did our forefathers yoke,
I mention Babel to my friends,
Philistia full of scorn,
And Tyre with Ethiops utmost ends,
Lo this man there was born:
5 But twice that praise shall in our car
Be said of Sion last,
This and this man was born in her,
High God shall fix her fast.
6 The Lord shall write it in a scroll
That ne'er shall be out-worn,
When he the nations doth inroll,
That this man there was born.
7 Both they who sing, and they who dance,
With sacred songs are there,
In thee fresh brooks, and soft streams glance,
And all my fountains clear.
All day to thee I cry;
And all night long before thee weep,
Before thee prostrate lie.
2 Into thy presence let my pray'r
*And all thy waves break me. *The Hebr. bears both. Thou
8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange,
And mak'st me odious,
Me to them odious, for they change,
And I here pent up thus.
9 Through sorrow, and afflićtion great,
Mine eye grows dim and dead,
Lord, all the day I thee intreat,
My hands to thee I spread.
Io Wilt thou do wonders on the dead,
Shall the deceas'd arise
And praise thee from their loathsome bed
With pale and hollow eyes?
11 Shall they thy loving kindness tell
On whom the grave hath hold,
Or they who in perdition dwell,
Thy faithfulness unfold?
12 In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known,
Thy justice in the gloomy land
Of dark oblivion?
13 But I to thee, O Lord, do cry,
Ere yet my life be spent,
And up to thee my pray’r doth hie,
Each morn, and thee prevent.
14 Why wilt thou, Lord, my soul forsake,
And hide thy face from me,
15 That am already bruis'd, and f shake
With terror sent from thee? | Heb. Prae Co,