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PSALM LXXXVI.

1 THY gracious ear, O Lord, incline,
O hear me, I thee pray,

For I am poor, and almost pine
With need, and sad decay.
2 Preserve my soul, for I have trod
Thy ways, and love the just;
Save thou thy servant, O my God,
Who still in thee doth trust.

3 Pity me, Lord, for daily thee
I call; 4. Oh, make rejoice

Thy servant's soul; for, Lord, to thee
I lift my soul and voice.

5 For thou art good, thou, Lord, art prone
To pardon, thou to all

Art full of mercy, thou alone
To them that on thee call.
6 Unto my supplication, Lord,
Give ear, and to the cry
Of my incessant prayers afford
Thy hearing graciously.
7 I in the day of my distress
Will call on thee for aid;
For thou wilt grant me free access,
And answer what I prayed.
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.

10 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.

1 Heb. I am good, loving, a doer of good and holy things.

12 Thee will I praise, O Lord my God,

Thee honour and adore

With my whole heart, and blaze abroad
Thy name for evermore.

13 For great thy mercy is toward me,
And thou hast freed my soul,
Even from the lowest hell set free,
From deepest darkness foul.

14 O God! the proud against me rise,
And violent men are met

To seek my life, and in their eyes
No fear of thee have set.

15 But thou, Lord, art the God most mild,
Readiest thy grace to show,
Slow to be angry, and art styled
Most merciful, most true.

16 Oh, turn to me thy face at length,
And me have mercy on;

Unto thy servant give thy strength,
And save thy handmaid's son.

17 Some sign of good to me afford,
And let my foes then see,

And be ashamed; because thou, Lord,
Dost help and comfort me.

PSALM LXXXVII.

1 AMONG the holy mountains high
Is his foundation fast,
There seated is his sanctuary,
His temple there is placed.

2 Sion's fair gates the Lord loves more
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 Ethiop's utmost ends,
Lo this man there was born:

5 But twice that praise shall in our ear
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 enrol,
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.

PSALM LXXXVIII.

1 LORD God, that dost me save and keep,
All day to thee I cry;

And all night long before thee weep,
Before thee prostrate lie.

2 Into thy presence let my prayer
With sighs devout ascend,

And to my cries that ceaseless are,
Thine ear with favour bend.

3 For cloyed with woes and trouble store
Surcharged my soul doth lie;

My life at death's uncheerful door
Unto the grave draws nigh.

4 Reckoned I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit;

I am a man,' but weak, alas!

And for that name unfit.
From life discharged and parted quite
Among the dead to sleep;

And like the slain in bloody fight
That in the grave lie deep.
Whom thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard;

Them from thy hand delivered o'er,
Death's hideous house hath barred.

1 Heb. A man without manly strength.

6 Thou in the lowest pit profound
Hath set me all forlorn,

Where thickest darkness hovers round,
In horrid deeps to mourn.

7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves,
Full sore doth press on me;

Thou break'st upon me all thy waves,
And all thy waves break me.1

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 affliction great,
Mine eye grows dim and dead;
Lord, all the day I thee entreat,
My hands to thee I spread.

10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead?
Shall the deceased 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 prayer 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 bruised, and 2 shake
With terror sent from thee??
Bruised and afflicted, and so low
As ready to expire;
While I thy terrors undergo,

Astonished with thine ire.

16 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow, Thy threatenings cut me through ·

1 The Hebrew bears both.

LL

2 Fræ concussione.

17 All day they round about me go, Like waves they me pursue.

18 Lover and friend thou hast removed,
And severed from me far:

They fly me now whom I have loved,
And as in darkness are.

A PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXIV.

[This and the following Psalm were done by the Author at fifte years old.]

WHEN the blest seed of Terah's faithful son,
After long toil, their liberty had won,
And past from Pharian fields to Canaan land,
Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand,
Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown,
His praise and glory was in Israel known.
That saw the troubled sea, and shivering fled,
And sought to hide his froth-becurled head
Low in the earth; Jordan's clear streams recoil,
As a faint host that hath received the foil.
The high, huge-bellied mountains skip like rams
Amongst their ewes, the little hills like lambs.

Why fled the ocean? And why skipped the mountains:
Why turned Jordan toward his crystal fountains?
Shake, Earth! and at the presence be aghast

Of him that ever was, and aye shall last;
That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush,
And make soft rills from fiery flint-stones gush.

PSALM CXXXVI.

LET us, with a gladsome mind,
Praise the Lord, for he is kind:
For his mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

Let us blaze his name abroad,
For of gods he is the God:

For his, &c.

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