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2 Up to the hills, where Christ is gone, To plead for all his saints, Presenting at his Father's throne Our songs and our complaints.

8 Thou art a God, before whose sight The wicked shall not stand: Sinners shall ne'er be thy delight, Nor dwell at thy right hand.

4 But to thy house will I resort,
To taste thy mercies there;
I will frequent thine holy court,
And worship in thy fear.

50 may thy Spirit guide my feet
In ways of righteousness!
Make ev'ry path of duty straight
And plain before my face.


6 My watchful enemies combine
To tempt my feet astray;
They flatter with a base design
To make my soul their prey.

Lord, crush the serpent in the dust,
And all his plots destroy;
While those, who in thy mercy trust,
Forever shout for joy.

The men, who love and fear thy name.
Shall see their hopes fulfill'd;
The mighty God will compass them
With favour as a shield.


PSALM 6.-C. M. [b]

Complaint in sickness; or, diseases healed.


4 IN anger, Lord, rebuke me not,

dreadful storm;

Nor let thy fury grow so hot
Against a feeble worm.

2 My soul's bow'd down with heavy cares, My flesh with pain opprest;

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My couch is witness to my tears,
My tears forbid my rest.

$ Sorrow and pain wear out my days:
I waste the night with cries,
Counting the minutes as they pass,
Till the slow morning rise.

Shall I be still tormented more?

Mine eye's consumed with grief?
How long, my God, how long before
Thy hand affords relief?

5 He hears when dust and ashes speak;
He pities all our groans;

He saves us for his mercy's sake,
And heals our broken bones.

6 The virtue of his sovereign word
Restores our fainting breath;
But silent graves praise not the Lord,
Nor is he known in death.

PSALM 6.-L. M.
Temptations in sickness overcome.
ORD, I can suffer thy rebukes

But thy fierce wrath I cannot bear
Olet it not against me rise!



2 Pity my languishing estate,
And ease the sorrows which I feel;
The wounds thine heavy hand hath made,
O let thy gentler touches heal!

3 See how I pass my weary days

In sighs and groans; and when 'tis night, My bed is watered with my tears; My grief consumes and dims my sight. 4 Look, how the pow'rs of nature mourn! How long, Almighty God, how long? When shall thine hour of grace return? When shall I make thy grace my song? 5 I feel my flesh so near the grave,

My thoughts are tempted to despair: But graves can never praise the Lord, For all is dust and silence there. 6 Depart, ye tempters, from And all despairing thonghts depart: soul; my My God, who hears my humble moan, Will ease my flesh, and cheer my heart.

PSALM 7.-C. M. [b]

God's care of his people, and punishment of persecutors.



Y trust is in my heav'nly Friend,
My hope in thee, my
Rise, and my helpless life defend
From those who seek my blood.

2 With insolence and fury they
My soul in pieces tear,
As hungry lions rend the prey,
When no deliv'rer's near.

If I had e'er provok'd them first,
Or once abus'd my foe,


Then let him tread my life to dust,
And lay mine honour low.

If there be malice hid in me,
I know thy piercing eyes;
I should not dare appeal to thee,
Nor ask my God to rise.

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5 Arise, my God, lift up thy hand,
Their pride and pow'r control;
Awake to judgment, and command
Deliv'rance for my soul.


6 [Let sinners and their wicked rage Be humbled to the dust:

Shall not the God of truth engage

To vindicate the just ?

7 He knows the heart, he tries the reins,
He will defend th' upright:
His sharpest arrows he ordains
Against the sons of spite.

8 For me their malice digg'd a pit,
But there themselves are cast;
My God makes all their mischief light
On their own heads at last.]

9 That cruel, persecuting race
Must feel his dreadful sword;
Awake, my soul, and praise the grace
And justice of the Lord.

PSALM 8.-S. M. [*]

God's sovereignty and goodness; and man's d minion over the creatures. LORD, our heavenly King,


Thy glories round the earth are spread, And o'er the heav'ns they shine.

2 When to thy works on high

I raise my wond'ring eyes,
And see the moon, complete in light,
Adorn the darksome skies:

3 When I survey the stars,
And all their shining forms,
Lord, what is man, that worthless thing,
Akin to dust and worms!

4 Lord, what is worthless man,

That thou shouldst love him so! Next to thine angels is he plac'd, And lord of all below.

5 Thine honours crown his head,
While beasts like slaves obey,
And birds that cut the air with wings,
And fish that cleave the sea.

6 How rich thy bounties are!
And wondrous are thy ways:
Of dust and worms thy pow'r can frame
A monument of praise.

7 [Out of the mouths of babes

And sucklings thou canst draw
Surprising honours to thy name!

And strike 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 heavens they shine.]

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