The God of fr'el will fupport
His children, left they faint.
6 But if our flavish fear

Will choose the road to hell,
We must expect our portion there,
Where bolder finners dwell.

PSALM CXXVI, Long metre.
Surprising Deliverance,

HEN God reftor'a our captive ftate,

WJoy was our fong, and grace our theme;

The grace beyond our hopes fo great,
That joy appear'd a painted dream.

2 The fcoffer owns thy hand, and pays
Unwilling honors to thy name;

While we, with pleasure, fhout thy praise,
With cheerful notes thy love proclaim.

3 When we review our difmal fears,
Fwas hard to think they'd vanish fo;
With God we left our flowing tears,
He makes our joys like rivers flow.
4 The man who in his furrow'd field,
His fcatter'd feed with fadnefs leaves,
Will shout, to fee the harveft yield
A welcome load of joyful fheaves.

PSALM CXXVI.

Common Metre.

The Joy of a Remarkable Converfion; or, Melan choly Removed.

WHEN God reveal'd his gracious name

And chang'd my mournful state,

My rapture feem'd a pleafing dream,
The grace appear'd so great.

The world beheld the glor'ous change,
And did thy hand confess :

My tongue broke out in unknown ftrains,
And fang furprizing grace.

Great is the work, my neighbors cry'd,

And own'd thy pow'r divine;

Great is the work, my heart reply'd,
And be the glory thine.

A

The Lord can clear the darkest skies,
Can give us day for night,

Make drops of facred forrow rise

To rivers of delight.

Let those who fow in fadnefs, wait
'Till the fair harvest come :

They had confefs their fheaves are great,
And fhout the bleffings home.

6 Though feed lie bury 'd long in duft,
It shan't deceive their hope!
The precious grain can ne'er be loft,
For grace infures the crop.

PSALM CXXVII. Long metre.

The bleffing of God on the Bufine's and Comforts of Life.

IF God incceed not, all the coft

And pains, to build the houfe, are loft:

If God the city will not keep,

The watchful guards as well may fleep.
What if you rife before the fun,
And work and toil when day is done,
Careful and foaring eat your bread,
To thun that poverty you dread?
3 'Tis all in vain, 'till God hath bleft:
He can make rich, yet give us reft;
Children and friends are bleffings too,
If God, our Sovʼreign, makes them fo.
Happy the man to whom he fends
Obed'ent children, faithful freinds;
How fweet our daily comforts prove
When they are season'd with his love.

PSALM CXXVII. Com. metre.

God, All in All.

build the houfe deny,

The builders work in vain :

And towns, without his wakeful eye,
A ufeful watch maintain.

2 Before the morning-beams arife,
Your painful work renew

And, till the ftars afcend the skies,
Your tirefome toil purfue."

3

Short be your feep, and coarfe your fare, In vain, 'till God has bleft;

But, if his fmiles attend your care,

You fhall have food and reft.

4 Nor children, relatives nor friends
Shall real bleffings prove,
Nor all the earthly joys he fends,
If fent without his love.

PSALM CXXVIII. Com. metre,

Family Bleffings.

HAPPY man whofe foul is fill'd
With zeal and rev'rend awe!
His lips, to God, their honors yield,
His life adorns the law.

2 A careful Providence fhall ftand
And ever guard thy head,
Shall on the labors of thy hand
Its kindly bleffings thed.

3 Thy wife fhall be a fruitful vine;
Thy children, round thy board,
Each, like a plant of honor, fhine,
And learn to fear the Lord,

The Lord fhall thy beft hopes fulfil,
For months and years to come;

The Lord, who dwells on Zion's bill,
Shall fend thee bleflings home.
6 This is the man whofe happy eyes
Shall fee his house increase ;
Shall fee the finking church arife,
Then leave the world in peace.

PSALM CXXIX.

Perfecutors Punished.

U Have I been nurs'd in tears;
from my youth, may Ifrel fay,

My griefs were conftant as the day,
And tedious as the years.

2 Up from my youth I bore the rage
Of all the fons of ftrife:
Oft they affair'd my riper age,
But not destroy'd my life.

3. Their cruel plough had torn my flesh.
With furrows long and deep,

Hourly they vex'd my wounds afresh,
Nor let my forrows fleep.

4 The Lord grew angry on his Throne,
And with impartia eye,

Meafur'd the mischiefs they had done,
And let his arrows fly.

How was their infolence surpris'd
To hear his thunders roll;

And all the foes of Zion feiz'd

With horrow to the foul!

6 Thus fhall the men who hate the faints Be blafted from the sky;

Their glory fade their courage faint,

And all their projects die.

What though they flourish tall and fair?
They have no root beneath;

Their growth fhall perish in despair,
And lie despis'd in death.]

8 So, corn which on the boufe-top stands,
No hope of harvest gives ;
The reaper ne'er hall fi his hands,
Nor binder fold the fheaves,

It fprings and withers on the place;
No traveller beftows

A word of bleffing on the grafs,

Nor minds it as he goes.

PSALM CXXX, Common metre,
Pardoning Grace.

UT of the deeps of long diftrefs,
The borders of defpair,

I fent my cries to feek thy grace,
My groans, to move thine ear.

2 Great God, should thy feverer eye,
And thine impartial hand

Mark and revenge iniquity,

No mortal fich could stand.

3 But there are pardons with my God
For crimes of high degree;
Thy Son has bought them with his blood
To draw us near to thee.

4[I wait for thy falvation, Lord,
With ftrong defires I wait;
My foul, invited by thy word,
Stands watching at thy gate.]

5 [Juft as the guards, who keep the night, Long for the morning fkies,

Watch the firft beams of breaking light,
And meet them with their eyes;

So waits my foul to fee thy grace,
And, more intent than they,
Meets the firft op'nings of thy faces
And finds a brighter day.)