I

PSAL. LXXXV.

THY Land to favour gracioully

Thou haft not Lord been flack,

Thou haft from hard Captivity

Returned Jacob back.

2 Th' iniquity thou didst forgive
That wrought thy People woe,
And all their Sin, that did thee grieve,
Haft hid where none shall know.

3 Thine anger all thou hadst remov'd,
And calmly didit return

From thy fierce wrath which we had prov'd,

↑ Heb. The burning heat of thy wrath.

Far worse than fire to burn.

4 God of our faving health and peace,
Turn us, and us reftore,

Thine indignation cause to cease
Toward us, and chide no more.

5 Wilt thou be angry without end,
For ever angry thus,

Wilt thou thy frowning ire extend

From Age to Age on us?

6 Wilt thou not turn, and hear our voice,

And us again revive,

*Heb. turn to quicken 8!.

That fo thy People may rejoyce

By thee preferv'd alive.

7 Caufe us to fee thy goodnefs, Lord,

To us thy mercy fhew,

Thy faving health to us afford,

And life in us renew.

8 And now what God the Lord will speak,

I will go ftrait and hear,

For to his people he speaks peace,

And to his Saints full dear,

To his dear Saints he will speak peace,
But let them never more

Return to folly, but furceafe
To trefpafs as before.

9 Surely to fuch as do him fear
Salvation is at hand,

And glory fhall ere long appear
To dwell within our Land.

10 Mercy and Truth that long were miss'd
Now joyfully are met,

Sweet Peace and Righteousness have kiss'd,
And hand in hand are fet.

II Truth from the Earth, like to a Flow'r,
Shall bud and bloffom then,

And Justice from her Heav'nly bow'r

Look down on mortal men.

12 The Lord will alfo then bestow

Whatever thing is good,

Our Land shall forth in plenty throw
Her fruits to be our food.

13 Before him Righteoufnefs fhall go

His Royal Harbinger,

Then will he come, and not be flow,

His footsteps cannot err.

*Heb. He will fet his steps to the way.

TH

PSAL. LXXXVI.

HY gracious car, O Lord, encline,
O hear me I thee pray,

For I am poor, and almost pine

With need, and fad decay.

2 Preferve my Soul, for I have trod
Thy wayes, and love the juft,
Save thou thy Servant, O my God,

Who fill in thee doth truft.

3 Pity me, Lord, for daily thee

I call; 4. O make rejoyce:

Thy Servant's Soul; for Lord to thee

I lift my Soul and voice,

† Heb. I am good, loving doer of

a

good

and

holy things.

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 fupplication, Lord, Give ear, and to the cry Of my inceffant prayers afford Thy hearing graciously. 71 in the day of my distress

Will call on thee for aid;

For thou wilt grant me free access,
And answer, what I pray'd.

• Like thee among the Gods is none,
Lord, nor any works

of

Of all that other gods have done
Like to thy glorious works.

9 The Nations all whom thou haft made
Shall come, and all fhall frame

To bow them low before thee, Lord.
And glorifie thy name.

10 For great thou art, and wonders great
By thy ftrong hand are done,
Thou in thy everlasting Seat
Remaineft 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 fhall it never flide.

14 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 tow'rd me,

And thou haft free'd my Soul

Ev'n from the lowest Hell fet free

From deepest darkness foul.

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

To feek my life, and in their eyes

No fear of thee have fet.

Is But thou, Lord, art the God moft mild,

Readieft thy grace to fhew,

Slow to be angry, and art stil'd

Moft merciful, moft true.

A

PSAL. LXXXVII.

Mong the holy Mountains high
Is his foundation faft,

There Seated in his Sanctuary›

His Temple there is plac'd.

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.

City of God, most glorious things

Of thee abroad are spoke ;

I mention Ægypt, where proud Kings
Did our Forefathers yoke.

I mention Babel to my friends,
Philiftia full of scorn,

And Tyre with Ethiops utmost ends,
ho this man there was born: