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9 If I the morning's wings could gain,

And fly beyond the western main, 10 Thy swifter hand would first arrive,

And there arrest thy fugitive.
11 Or, should I try to shun thy sight

Beneath the sable wings of night;
One glance from thee, one piercing ray,

Would kindle darkness into day. 12 The veil of night is no disguise,

No screen from thy all-searching eyes ;
Through midnight shades thou find'st thy way,

As in the blazing noon of day.
13 Thou know'st the texture of my heart, ,

My reins, and every vital part;
Each single thread in nature's loom,

By thee was cover'd in the womb.
14 I'll praise thee, from whose hands I came,

A work of such a curious frame;
The wonders thou in me hast shown,

My soul with grateful joy must own. 15 Thine eyes my substance did survey,

Whilst yet a lifeless mass it lay,
In secret how exactly wrought,

Ere from its dark enclosure brought. 16 Thou didst the shapeless embryo see,

Its parts were register'd by thee;
Thou saw'st the daily growth they took,

Form'd by the model of thy book. 17 Let me acknowledge too, O God,

That since this maze of life I trod,
Thy thoughts of love to me surmount

The power of numbers to recount. 18 Far sooner could I reckon o'er

The sands upon the ocean's shore;
Each morn revising what I've done,

I find th' account but new begun.
19 The wicked thou shalt slay, O God :

Depart from me, ye men of blood, 20 Whose tongues heaven's Majesty profane,

And take th’ Almighty's name in vain. 21 Lord, hate not I their impious crew,

Who thee with enmity pursue?
And does not grief my heart oppress,

When reprobates thy laws transgress? 22 Who practise enmity to thee

Shall utmost hatred have from me;
Such men I utterly detest,

As if they were my foes profest. 23, 24 Search, try, O God, my thoughts and heart,

If mischief lurk in any part;
Correct me where I go astray,
And guide me in thy perfect way.

1

PR

PSALM CXL. 1 RESERVE me, Lord, froin crafty foes,

of treacherous intent; 2 And from the sons of violence,

on open mischief bent. 3 Their sland'ring tongue the serpent's sting

in sharpness does exceed; Between their lips the gall of asps

and adder's venom breed. 4 Preserve me, Lord, from wicked hands,

nor leave my soul forlorn, A prey to sons of violence, who have

my

ruin sworn. 5 The proud for me have laid their snare,

and spread their wily net; With traps and gins, where'er I move,

I find my steps beset. 6 But thus environ'd with distress,

thou art my God, I said; Lord, hear my supplicating voice,

that calls to thee for aid. 7 O Lord, the God whose saving strength

kind succour did convey, And cover'd my advent'rous head

in battle's doubtful day; 8 Permit not their unjust designs

to answer their desire; Lest they, encourag'd by success,

to bolder crimes aspire. 9 Let first their chiefs the sad effects

of their injustice mourn ; The blast of their envenom'd breath

upon themselves return. 10 Let them who kindle first the flame,

its sacrifice become; The pit they digg'd for me be made

their own untimely tomb. 11 Though slander's breath may raise a storm,

it quickly will decay: Their rage does but the torrent swell,

that bears themselves away. 12 God will assert the

poor

man's cause, and speedy succour give: The just shall celebrate his praise, and in his presence live.

PSALM CXLI. 1 10 thee, O Lord, my cries ascend,

O haste to my relief; And with accustom'd pity hear

the accents of my grief.

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2 Instead of off'rings, let my prayer

like morning incense rise; My lifted hand supply the place

of evening sacrifice. 3 From hasty language curb my tongue,

and let a constant guard
Still keep the portal of my lips

with wary silence barrd. 4 From wicked men's designs and deeds

my heart and hands restrain; Nor let me in the booty share

of their unrighteous gain. 5 Let upright men reprove my faults,

and I shall think them kind;
Like balm that heals a wounded head,

I their reproof shall find;
And, in return, my fervent prayer

I shall for them address,
When they are tempted and reduc'd,

like me, to sore distress.
6 When skulking in Engedi's rock,

I to their chiefs appeal,
If one reproachful word I spoke,

when I had power to kill.
7 Yet us they persecute to death;

our scatter'd ruins lie
As thick as from the hewer's axe

the sever'd splinters fly.
8 But, Lord, to thee I still direct

my supplicating eyes;
O leave not destitute my soul,

whose trust on thee relies. 9 Do thou preserve me from the snares,

that wicked hands have laid; Let them in their own nets be caught, while my escape is made.

PSALM CXLII. 1 10 God, with mournful voice,

in deep distress I pray'd; 2 Made him the umpire of my cause,

my wrongs before him laid. 3 Thou didst my steps direct,

when my griev'd soul despair'd; For where I thought to walk secure,

they had their traps prepar’d. 4 I look'd, but found no friend

to own me in distress; All refuge fail'd, no man vouchsaf'd

his pity or redress. 5 To God at last I pray'd;

thou, Lord, my refuge art,

'L

My portion in the land of life,

till life itself depart. 6 Reduc'd to greatest straits,

to thee I make my moan; O save me from oppressing foes,

for me too powerful grown. 7 That I may praise thy name,

my soul from prison bring; Whilst of thy kind regard to me assembled saints shall sing.

PSALM CXLIII. 1

ORD, hear my prayer, and to my cry

thy wonted audience lend; In thy accustom'd faith and truth

a gracious answer send. 2 Nor at thy strict tribunal bring

thy servant to be try'd; For in thy sight no living man

can e'er be justified. 3 The spiteful foe pursues my life,

whose comforts all are fled; He drives me into caves as dark

as mansions of the dead. 4 My spirit therefore is o'erwhelm'd,

and sinks within my breast; My mournful heart grows desolate,

with heavy woes opprest. 5 I call to mind the days of old,

and wonders thou hast wrought; My former dangers and escapes

employ my musing thought. 6 To thee my hands in humble

prayer I fervently stretch out; My soul for thy refreshment thirsts,

like land oppress'd with drought. 7 Hear me with speed; my spirit fails;

thy face no longer hide, Lest I become forlorn, like them

that in the grave reside. 8 Thy kindness

early let me hear, whose trust on thee depends; Teach me the way where I should go;

my soul to thee ascends. 9 Do thou, O Lord, from all my foes

preserve and set me free; A safe retreat against their rage

my soul implores from thee. 10 Thou art my God, thy righteous will

instruct me to obey; Let thy good spirit lead and keep

my soul in thy right way.

FOR

11 O! for the sake of thy great name,

revive my drooping heart;
For thy truth's sake, to me distress'd,

the promis'd aid impart.
12 In pity to my sufferings, Lord,
reduce

my

foes to shame;
Slay them that persecute a soul
devoted to thy name.

PSALM CXLIV.
1 NOR ever bless'd be God the Lord,

who does his needful aid impart,
At once both strength and skill afford,

to wield my arms with warlike art. 2 His goodness is my fort and tower,

my strong deliv'rance, and my shield; In him I trust whose matchless power

makes to my sway fierce nations yield. 3 Lord, what's in man, that thou shouldst love

of him such tender care to take ? What in his offspring could thee move

such great account of him to make ? 4 The life of man does quickly fade,

his thoughts but empty are and vain, His days are like a flying shade,

of whose short stay no signs remain. 5 In solemn state, O God, descend,

whilst heaven its lofty head inclines;
The smoking hills asunder rend,

of thy approach the awful signs.
6 Discharge thy awful lightnings round,

and make thy scatter'd foes retreat;
Then with thy pointed arrows wound,

and their destruction soon complete.
7, 8 Do thou, O Lord, from heaven engage

thy boundless power my foes to quell,
And snatch me from the stormy rage

of threatning waves, that proudly swell. Fight thou against my foreign foes,

who utter speeches false and vain; Who, though in solemn leagues they close,

their sworn engagements ne'er maintain. 9 So I to thee, O King of kings,

in new-made hymns my voice shall raise, And instruments of many strings

shall help me thus to sing thy praise:
10 “ God does to kings his aid afford,

si to them his sure salvation sends;
66 'Tis he that from the murdering sword

6 his servant David still defends.'!
11 Fight thou against my foreign foes,

who utter speeches false and vain ;

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