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of all that other gods have done
Like to thy glorious works.
Shall come, and all shall frame
And glorifie thy name.
By thy trong hand are donç,
Remainest God alone. 11 Teach me, O Lord, thy way moft right,
I in thy fruth will bids,
So fhall it never side.
Thec honour, and adore
Thy name for evermore.
And thou haft free'd my Soul Ev’n from the lowef Hell set free
From deepest darkness fonl.
And violent men are met
No fear of thee have set.
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,
And save thy hand-maid's Son.
And let my foes then see.
Doft help and comfort me.
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
And all within his care,
Of thee abroad are spoke ;
Did our Forefathers yoke.
Philiftia full of scorn,
to this man there was born:
s But twice that praise shall in our ear
Be said of sion last,
High God shall fix her fast.
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,
And all my fountains clear.
Lord God thon doft me save and keep,
All to thee
Before thee proftrate lie.
With sighs devont afcend,
Thine ear with favour bend,
Surcharg'd my Soui doth lie, My life at death's unchearful door
Unto the grave draws nigh.
4 Reck'n'd I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit,
*Heb. A man without manly strengti s From life dischargʻd and parted quite
Among the dead to fleep,
That in the Grave lic deep.
Doft never more regard,
Death's hideous house bath barr'd. 6 Thou in the lowest Pit profound
Haft set me all forlorn,
In horrid deeps to mourn.
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,
And I here pent up thus.
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
With pale and hollow eyes?
On whom the Grave hath hold,
Thy faithfulness unfold? 12 In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known, Thy justice in the gloomy land
Of dark oblivion?
Ere get my life be spent,
Each morn, and thee prevent.
And hide thy face from me,
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.