11 O Lord! to whom should I repair, As one that's dead, no more to stay, 14 To serve thee thou hast formed us, On thee we safe rely; And on the merit of Jesus Depend continually. 15 'Tis in God's hands our time is placed, Deliver us, O Lord, From enemies that me disgraced, And lies have sent abroad. 16 Then day by day I'll magnify Look down in pity, O Most High, 17 To silence put the lying lips And false reports do spread, and slips 18 How great's the majesty of God! Great is his goodness shown abroad, 20 The lovingkindness of the Lord 21 His well-beloved Son he sent On earth a life of grief he spent, 22 O! thank our Saviour, all ye saints, His faithful flock, and their complaints 23 Confide in Divine Providence, For all whose hope and confidence PSALM XXXII. 1 THAT man most blessed is in whom No guile is to be found; Most bless'd is the eternal doom When pardon is the sound, 2 O! for a shower of grace divine On all parts of our land; And all transgressions swept out clean By our Emanuel's hand. 3 When I my speech did long restrain, And silent was my tongue, Faith's riches gave me greater gain, 4 So when on me, both night and day, 5" O, eternity! what a word! 6 Unto the Lord I will confess To Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, Whom angels wait upon. 7 Through him shall every godly man Through the Redeemer's gracious plan, 8 When up to brim the waters swell, Where floods shall ne'er o'erthrow. 10 The Lord, my God, I will entreat 11 O! be not stubborn as the mule, Whose mouth with bridle we must pull, In order to command. 12 For to the man that wicked lives But he who love to God still moves, 13 The upright in the Lord rejoice, Ye saints, with joy lift up your voice, 14 Unto the Lamb hosannahs sing, To us salvation he did bring, PSALM XXXIII. 1 YE pious in the Lord rejoice With golden harps lift up your voice, 2 Praise God on ten-string'd instruments, And make soft melody; Praise him with heart and soul, ye saints, 3 Sing a new song to God, and play His works are glorious alway, 5 God's word the highest heavens hath made, With the angelic host; The Lord, he of men's breath hast said, 66 He springs but from the dust." |