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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, Lordo

And glorifie thy name.
Ic For great thou art, and wonders great

By thy trong hand are donç,
Thou in thy everlasting Seat

Remainest God alone. 11 Teach me, O Lord, thy way moft right,

I in thy fruth will bids,
To fear thy name my heart-unite,

So fhall it never side.
14 Thee will I praise, O Lord my God,

Thec 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 lowef Hell set free

From deepest darkness fonl.
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.
Is But thou, Lord, art the God moft mild,

Readiest thy gsace to fhew, Slow to be angry, and art ftild

Most merciful, most true.

'16 O turn to me thy face at length,

And me have mercy on,
Vnto thy servant give thy strength,

And save thy hand-maid's Son.
17 Some sign of good to me afford,

And let my foes then see.
And be asham'd, because thou Lord

Doft help and comfort me.

PSAL. LXXXVII.

A Mong the holy Mountains high

Is his foundation fait, There Seated in his Sanctuary,

His Temple there is plac'd. 2 Sion's fair Gates the Lord loves more

Thàn 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 ;
I mention Ægypt, where proud Kings

Did our Forefathers yoke.
I mention Babel to my friends,

Philiftia full of scorn,
And Tyre with Ethiops uimoft ends

to this man there was born:

s 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.
$ The Lord fhall write it in a Scrowle

That ne'er fall be out-woin, When he the Nations doth enrowle,

That this man there was born. 7 Both they who ling, and they who dance, T

With Sacred Songs are there,
In thee fresh brooks, and soft ftreams glance,

And all my fountains clear.

Psal. LXXXVIII.

'

Lord God thon doft me save and keep,

All to thee
And all night long, before thee weep,

Before thee proftrate lie.
2 Into thy presence let my pray’r

With sighs devont afcend,
And to my cries, that ceaseless are,

Thine ear with favour bend,
3 For cloy'd with woes and trouble sore

Surcharg'd my Soui doth lie, My life at death's unchearful door

Unto the grave draws nigh.

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4 Reck'n'd I am with them that pass

Down to the dismal pit,
I am a * man, but weak alas,
And for that name unfit.

*Heb. A man without manly strengti s From life dischargʻd and parted quite

Among the dead to fleep,
And like the slain in bloody fight

That in the Grave lic deep.
Whom thou rememberest no more,

Doft never more regard,
Them from thy hand deliver'd o'er

Death's hideous house bath barr'd. 6 Thou in the lowest Pit profound

Haft set me all forlorn,
Where thickest darkness houers round,

In horrid deeps to mourn.
7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter Saves,

Full sore doth press ob me; * Thou break'st upon me all thy waves,

* The Hebr. * And all thy waves break me.

bears both 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 int réat,

My hands to thee I spread,

Io Wilt thou do wonders on the dead,

Shall the deceas'd arise
And praise thee from their loathsom bid

With pale and hollow eyes?
II 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 get my life be spent,
And up to thee my prayer doch hie:

Each morn, and thee prevent.
14 Why wilt thou, Lord, my Soul forsake,

And hide thy face from me,
Is That am already bruis'd, and I shake

With terror fent from thee? Heb. Pre Concuffionis, Bruis'd, and afflicted, and so low

As ready to expire, While I thy terrors undergo

Aftonih'd with thine ite. 16 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow,

Thy threarnings cut me through. 17 All day they round about me go,

Liko wayes they me pursue.

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