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

5 O may thy fpirit guide my feet
In ways of right'oufnefs!
Make every path of duty ftraight
And plain before my face.

PAUSE.

6 My watchful enemies combine
To tempt my feet aftray;
They flatter with a base defign,
To make my foul their prey.

7 Lord, crush the ferpent in the duft,
And all his plots destroy;

While thofe, who in thy mercy truft,
For ever fhout for joy.

8 The men, who love and fear thy name, Shall fee their hopes fulfill'd;

The mighty God will compafs them
With favour as a fhield.

PSALM VI.

Common Metre.

Complaint in fickness; or, difeafes bealed.
I N anger, Lord, rebuke me not,

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

2 My foul's bow'd down with heavy cares, My flesh with pain opprefs'd;

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

3 Sorrow and pain wear out my days;
I waste the night with cries,
Counting the minutes as they pass,
Till the flow morning rife.

4 Shall I be ftill tormented more?
Mine eyes confum'd with grief?
How long, my God, how long before
Thy hand affords relief?

5 He hears when duft and ashes speak;
He pities all our groans;
He faves us for his mercy's fake,
And heals our broken bones.

6 The virtue of his fov'reign word
Reftores our fainting breath;
But filent graves praife not the Lord,
Nor is he known in death.

PSALM VI. Long Metre.
Temptations in fickness overcome.

L

ORD, I can fuffer thy rebukes

When thou with kindnefs doft chaftife;

But thy fierce wrath I cannot bear ;
O let it not against me rife!

2 Pity my languishing estate,

And eafe the forrows 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 fighs and groans; and when 'tis night, My bed is water'd with my tears; My grief confumes and dims my fight. 4 Look how the pow'rs of nature mourn! How long, Almighty God, how long?

When shall thine hour of grace return? When fhall I make thy grace my fong? 5 I feel

my flesh fo near the grave,

My thoughts are tempted to defpair :
But graves can never praife the Lord,
For all is duft and filence there.

6 Depart, ye tempters, from my foul;
And all defpairing thoughts depart;
My God, who hears my humble moan,
Will cafe my flesh and cheer my heart.
PSALM VII. Common Metre.
God's care of his people, and punishment of perfecutors.
I TY truft is in my heav'nly Friend,
My hope in thee, my God;
Rife, and my helpless life defend
From those who feek my blood.
2 With infolence and fury they
My foul in pieces tear,

MY

As hungry lions rend the prey
When no deliv'rer's near.

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

4

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

If there be malice hid in me,
I know thy piercing eyes;

I fhould not dare appeal to thee,
Nor afk my God to rife.

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

с

PAUSE.

6 [Let finners and their wicked rage
Be humbled to the duft:

Shall not the God of truth engage
To vindicate the juft?

7 He knows the heart, he tries the reins,
He will defend th' upright:
His fharpeft arrows he ordains
Against the fons of fpite.

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

9

I

2

3

That cruel, perfecuting race

Muft feel his dreadful fword; Awake, my foul, and praife the grace And juftice of the Lord.

PSALM VIII. Short Metre. God's Lovereignty and goodness; and man's dominion over the creatures.

LORD, our heav'nly King,
Thy name is all divine;

Thy glories round the earth are fpread,
And o'er the heav'ns they fhine :

When to thy works on high

I raise my wond'ring eyes,

And fee the moon complete in light

Adorn the darksome skies :

When I furvey the ftars,

And all their fhining forms,,

Lord, what is man, that, worthlefs thing,

A-kin to duft and worms!

4

5

6

7

Lord, what is worthlefs man, That thou fhould't love him fo! Next to thine angels is he plac'd, And lord of all below.

Thine honours crown his head, While beafts like flaves obey, And birds that cut the air with wings,

And fish that cleave the fea.

How rich thy bounties are!
And wond'rous are thy ways:

Of duft and worms thy pow'r can frame
A monument of praise.

[Out of the mouths of babes And fucklings, thou canst draw Surprifing honours to thy name ! And frike the world with awe.

ខ O Lord, our heav'nly king, Thy name is all divine ;

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

PSALM VIII.

Common Metre.

Chriff's condefcenfion and glorification; or, God made man.
LORD, our Lord, how wondrous great
Is thine exalted name !

The glories of thy heav'nly ftate
Let men and babes proclaim.

2 When I behold thy works on high,
The moon which rules the night,
And ftars that well adorn the sky,
Those moving worlds of light :
3 Lord, what is man or all his race,
Who dwells fo far below,