PSALM CXV. Long metre.

The true God our Refuge; or, Idolatry reproved.

Not to ourselves is glory due!

OT to ourselves, who are but duft,

Eternal God! thou only juft!
Thou only gracious, wife and true.

4

2 Shine forth in all thy dreadful name :
Why should a heathen's haughty tongue
nfult us, and to raise our shame,
Say, Where's the God you've fern'd fo long?
3 The God we ferve maintains his throne
Above the clouds beyond the skies;
Through all the earth his will is done,
He knows our groans he hears our cries.
4 But the vain idols they adore
Are fenfeiefs fhapes of ftone and wood;
At beft a mafs of glitt'ring ore,

A filver faint, or golden god!

Is With eyes and ears they carve their head
Deaf are their ears their eyes are blind;
In vain are coftly off'rings made,
And vows are fcatter'd in the wind.

6 Their feet were never made to move,
Nor hands to fave, when mortals pray,
Mortals who pay them fear or love,
Seem to be blind and deaf as they.]
7 Orel, make the Lord thy hope,
Thy Help, thy Refuge and thy Reft;
The Lord fhall build thy ruins up,
And blefs the people and the priest.

8 The dead no more can fpeak thy praife
They dwell in filence in the grave;
But we fhall live to fing thy grace,
And tell the world thy pow'rs to fave.

NOT

Popish Idolatry reproved.

OT to our nanes, Thou only juft and true, Not to our worthlefs names is glory due: Thy pow'r and grace, thy truth and justice, claim Immortal honors to thy So'reign Name. Shine thro'the earth from heav'n thy bleft abode, Nor let the heathens fay And where's your God? 2 Heav'n is thine higher court: there ftands thy (throne ; And through the lower worlds thy will is done; Our God fram'd all this earth, thefe heav'ns he (spread,

But foo's adore the gods their hands have made :
The kneeling ground, with looks devout, behold
Their filver faviours, and their faints of gold.
[3 Vain are those, artful shapes of eyes and ears;
The molten image neither fees nor hears;.
Their hands are helpless, nor their feet can move;
They have no fpeech, nor thought,nor pow'r nor
(love ;
Yet foolish mortals make their long complaints
To their deaf idols, and their moveless faints.
4 The rich have ftatues well adorn'd with gold,
The poor, confent with gods of coarfer mould;
With tools of iron, carve the fenfølefs ftock
Lopt from a tree, or broken from a rock:
People and prieft drive on the fol e mn trade,
And truft thegods that faws and hammers made.
5. Be heav'n and earth amaz'd ! 'tis hard to say,
Which is more stupid, or their gods, or they :
Orel, truft the Lord! he hears and fees;
He khows thy forrows, and restores thy peace
His worthip does a thousand comforts yield;
He is thy help, and He thine heav'nly fhield.
6 Columbia, truft the Lord; thy toes, in vain,
Attempt thy ruin, and enforce their reign,

Had they prevail'd,darknefs had clos'd our days,
And death and filence had forbid his praise :
Bat we are fav'd, and live; let fongs arife,
Golumbia, blefs the God who built the fkies
PSALM CXVI. First part.
Recovery from Sickness.

I LOVE the Lord, he heard my cries,
And pitty'd ev'ry groan :

Long as I live, when troublesrife,
I'll haften to his throne.

2 I love the Lord; he bow'd his ear,
And chased my griefs away:
Olet my heart no more defpair,
While I have breath to pray!

3 My flesh declin❜d, my fpirits fell,
And I drew near the dead,"
While inward pangs, and fears of hell
Perplex d my wakeful head.

"My God, Icry'd, thy fervant fave,
Thowever good and just;

"Thy pow'r can refcue from the grave;, "Thy pow'r is all my truft."

3

The Lord beheld me fore diftreft ;
He bid my pains remove :

Return, my foul to God, thy Reft,

For thou haft known his love.

6 My God hath fav'd my foul from death,
And dry'd my falling tears:

Now to his praise I'll spend my breath,
And my remaining years.

PSALM CXVI. Second part.

WHAT

Vows made in Trouble, paidin the Church ; or, Pub lic thanks for Private Deliverance. fhail render to my God For all his kindness fhown? My feet thall vifit thine abode, My fong's addrefs thy thrones

Among the faints who fill thine house
My off'rings shall be paid;
There fhall my zeai perform the vows
My foul in anguish made.

3 How much is mercy thy delight,
Thou Ever-Bieffed God!

How dear thy fervants in thy fight!
How precious is their blood!

4 How happy all thy fervants are !
How great thy grace to me!
My life which thou haft made thy care,
Lord I devote to thee.

5 Now I am thine for ever thine,
Nor fhall my purpose move;

Thy hand hath loos'd my bonds of pain,
And bound me with thy love.

6 Hear in Thy Courts I leave my vow,
And.thy rich grace record;

Witnefs ye faints who hear me now, ifi forfake the Lord.

PSALM CXVII. Common Metre.
Praife to God from all Nations.

ALL ye nations, praife the Lord,
Each with a different tongue;

In ev'ry language learn his word,
And let his name be fung.

2. His mercy reigns throu zh ev'ry land:
Proclaim his grace abroad :

For ever firm his truth fhall ftand;
Praise ye the faithful God.

PSALM CXVII. Long Metre.

ROM all who dwell below the skies

FR Let the Creator's praise arife;

Let the Redeemer's Name be fung
Through ev'ry land by ev'ry tongus..

U

2 Eternal are thy mercies, Lord Eternal truth attends thy word;

Thy praife fhall found from fhore to fhore, Till funs fhall rife and fet no more.

PSALM CXVII. Short metre.
TShall found through distant lands;
HY name Almighty Lord,
Great is thy grace and fure thy word:
Thy truth forever ftands..

2 Far be thine honor spread.
And long thy praise endure.
'Till morning light and ev ning fhade
Shall be exchang'd no more.

THE

PSALM CXVIII. Firß parte
Deliverance from a Tumult.

THE Lord appears my helper now,
Nor is my faith afraid

What all the fons of earth can do,
Since heav'n affords its aid.

2 'Tis fafer Lord to hope in thee,
And have my God my Friend,
Than truft in men of high degrees
And on their truth depend.

3 Like bees my foes befet me roun
A large and angry swarm ƒ -
But I fhall all their rage confound,
By thine Almighty Arm.

"Tis through the Lord my heart is rong; In him my lips rejoice;

While his falvation is my fong.

How chearful is my voice!

5 Like angry bees they girt me round:
When God appears they y:

So burning thorns with crackling lɔand,
Make a fierce blaze and die..