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PSALM I.

PONE INTO VERSE, 1653,

Blessed is the man who hath not walk'd astray
In counsel of the wicked, and i' the way
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat
Of seorners hath not sat. But in the great
Jehovah's law is ever his delight,
And in his law he studies day and night,
Jle shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watery streams, and in his season knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall,
And what he takes in hand shall prosper all.
Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand
In judgement, or abide their trial then,
Nor sinners in the assembly of just men.
For the Lord knows the upright way of the just,
And the way of bad men to ruin must."

PSALM II.

Done Aug. 8, 1653. Terzetti.

Why do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations
Muse a vain thing, the kings of the earth unstand
With power, and princes in their congregations

Lay deep their plots together through each land
Against the Lord and his Messiah dear?
Let us break off, say they, by strength of hand

Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear,
Their twisted cords: He, who in heaven doth

dwell,
Shall laugh; the Lord shall scoff them; then
severe,

Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell
And fierce ire trouble them; but I, saith he,
Anointed have my King (though ye rebel)

On Sion my holy hill. A firm decree
1 will declare: The Lord to me hath said,
Thou art my Son, I have begotten thee

This day; ask of me, and the grant is made;
As thy possession I on thee bestow
The Heathen; and, as thy conquest to be sway'd,

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Earth's utmost bounds: them shalt thou bring full
low
With iron scepter bruis'd, and them disperse
Like to a potter's vessel shiver'd so.

And now be wise at length, ye kings averse,
Be taught, ye Judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah serve, and let your joy converse

With trembling; kiss the Son lest he appear
In anger, and ye perish in the way,
If once his wrath take fire, like fuel sere.

Happy all those who have in him their stay.

PSALM in.

Aug. 9. 1653.

WHEN HE FLED FROM ABSALOM.

Lord, how many are my foes!
How many those,
That in arms against me rise!
Many are they,
That of my life distrustfully thus say;
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou, Lord, art my shield, my glory,
Thee, through my story,
The exalter of my head I count;
Aloud I cried
Unto Jehovah, he full soon replied,
And heard me from his holy mount.
I lay and slept; I wak'd again;
For my sustain
Was the Lord. Of many millions
The populous rout
I fear not, though, encamping round about,
They pitch against me their pavilions.
Rise, Lord; save me, my God; for thou
Hast smote ere now
On the cheek-bone all my foes,
Of men abhorr'd
Hast broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord;
Thy blessing on thy people flows.

PSALM IF.

.Aug. 10, 1653,

Answee me when I call,
God of my righteousness;
In straights, and in distress,
Thou didst me disenthrall
And set at large; now spare,

Now pity me, and hear my earnest prayer.
Great ones, how long will ye
My glory have in scorn?
How long be thus forborn
Still to love vanity?
To love, to seek, to prize,

Tilings false and vain, and nothing else but lies?
Yet know the Lord hath choge,
Chose to himself apart,
The good and meek of heart;
(For whom to choose he knows)
Jehovah from on high

Will hear my voice, what time to him I cry.
Be aw'd and do not sin;
Speak to your hearts alone,
Upon your beds, each one,

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