4 Thou dost not, Lord, Delight in wickednesse ; Nor to bad men

Wilt thy protection lend. 5 The boasters proud Cannot before thee stay: Thou hat'st all those,

That are to sin devoted:

6 The lying lips,

And who with blood are spotted, Thou doest abhorre,

And wilt for ever slay :

7 But I unto

Thy house shall take the way:

And, through thy grace
Abundant, shall adore,
With humble feare,

Within thy holy place. 8 Oh! leade me, Lord,

Within thy righteous trace:
Even for their sakes

That malice me so sore,
Make smooth thy paths
My dimmer eyes before.

9 Within their mouth

No truth is ever found: Pure mischiefe is

Their heart: a gaping tombe 10 Is their wide throat;

And yet their tongues still sound,

11 With smoothing words.

O Lord, give them their doome, And let them fall

In those their plots profound. In their excesse

Of mischiefe, them destroy,

12 That rebels are;

So those, that to thee flye, Shall all rejoyce

And sing eternally :

13 And whom thou dost

Protect, and who love thee

And thy deere name,

In thee shall ever joy;

Since thou with blisse

The righteous dost reward, And with thy grace,

As with a shield him guard.

PSALM VI.

AS THE Lth PSALM,

"The mighty God, &c.”

LET me not, Lord,

Be in thy wrath reproved :

Oh! scourge me not

When thy fierce wrath is moved.

2. Pity me, Lord,

That doe with languor pine:

Heale me, whose bones

With paine dissolved bin;

3 Whose weary soule

Is vexed above measure.

O Lord; how long

Shall I bide thy displeasure?

4 Turne thee, O Lord,
Rescue my soule distrest;
4 And save me of thy grace.
'Mongst those that rest
In silent death,

Can none remember thee;
And in the grave

How shouldst thou praised be?

6 Weary with sighs

All night I caus'd my bed

To swim: with teares,

My couch I watered. 7 Deepe sorrow hath

Consum'd my dimmed eyne, Sunk in with griefe

At these lewd foes of mine:

8 But now hence, hence,

Vaine plotters of mine ill:

The Lord hath heard

My lamentations shrill :

9 God heard my suit,

And still attends the same:

10 Blush now, my foes,

And flye with sudden shame.

PSALM VII.

AS THE CXIIth PSALM,

"The man is blest that God, &c."

ON thee, O Lord my God, relies
My onely trust: from bloudy spight
Of all my raging enemies

Oh! let thy mercy me acquite.
2 Lest they, like greedy lyons, rend
My soule, while none shall it defend.
3 O Lord, if I this thing have wrought,
If in my hands be found such ill;
4 If I with mischiefe ever sought
To pay good turnes, or did not still
Doe good unto my causlesse foe,
That thirsted for my overthrow;
5 Then, let my foe in eager chase,
O'ertake my soule, and proudly tread
My life below, and with disgrace
In dust lay downe mine honour dead.
6 Rise up in rage, O Lord, eft soone
Advance thine arme against my fo'ne;
And wake for me, till thou fulfill

7 My promis'd right: so shall glad throngs Of people flocke unto thy hill.

For their sakes then revenge my wrongs, 8 And rouse thyselfe. Thy judgements be O'er all the world: Lord, judge thou me.

As truth and honest innocence

Thou find'st in me, Lord, judge thou me: 9 Settle the just with sure defence:

Let me the wicked's malice see

10 Brought to an end. For thy just eye Doth heart and inward reines descry:

11 My safety stands in God, who shields. The sound in heart: whose doome, each day, 12 To just men and contemners yeelds 13 Their due. Except he change his way, His sword is whet, to blood intended. His murdering bow is ready bended. 14 Weapons of death he hath addrest And arrowes keene to pierce my foe, 15 Who late bred mischiefe in his breast; But, when he doth on travell goe,

16 Brings forth a lye; deep pits doth delve, And fall into his pits himselve.

17 Back to his owne head shall rebound

His plotted mischiefe ; and his wrongs

18 His crowne shall craze: But I shall sound
Jehovah's praise with thankfull songs,
And will his glorious name, expresse,
And tell of all his righteousnesse.

PSALM VIII.

AS THE CXIIIth PSALM,

"Ye children which, &c."

How noble is thy mighty Name,
O Lord, o'er all the world's wide frame,
Whose glory is advanc'd on high
Above the rowling heavens' rack!
2 How for the gracelesse scorner's sake,
To still th' avenging enemy,,

Hast thou thy tender infants' tongue,
The praise of thy great name made strong,
While they hang sucking on the brest!
3 But, when I see the heavens bright,
The moone and glittering stars of night,
By thine almighty hand addrest,
4 Oh! what is man, poore silly man,
That thou so mind'st him, and dost daine
To looke at his unworthy seed!
5 Thou hast him set not much beneath
Thine angels bright; and, with a wreath
Of glory, hast adorn'd his head.
6 Thou hast him made high soveraigne
7 Of all thy workes, and stretch'd his raigne
Unto the heards and beasts untame,

8 To fowles, and to the scaly traine,

That glideth through the watry maine. 9 How noble each-where is thy Name.

PSALM IX.

TO THE TUNE OF THAT KNOWN SONG BEGINNING,

"Preserve us, Lord."

THEE, and thy wondrous deeds, O God,

With all my soule I sound abroad:

2 My joy, my triumph is in thee.

Of thy dread Name my song shall be, 3 O highest God: since put to flight, And fal'ne and vanish't at thy sight 4 Are all my foes; for thou hast past Just sentence on my cause at last; And, sitting on thy throne above, A rightful Judge thyselfe dost prove : 5 The troups profane thy checks have stroid, And made their name for ever void.

6 Where's now, my foes, your threat'ned wrack? So well you did our cities sack,

And bring to dust; while that ye say,
Their name shall dye as well as they!

7 Loe, in the eternall state God sits,
And his high throne to justice fits:
8 Whose righteous hand the world shal weeld,
And to all folke just doome shall yeeld.

9 The poore from high find his releefe ; The poore in needfull times of griefe: 10 Who knows thee, Lord, to thee shall cleave, That never dost thy clients leave.

11 Oh! sing the God that doth abide, On Sion Mount; and blazon wide 12 His worthy deeds. For he pursues

The guiltlesse blood with vengeance due: He minds their cause, nor can passe o'er Sad clamours of the wronged poore. 13 Oh! mercy, Lord: thou, that do'st save My soule from gates of death and grave: Oh! see the wrong my foes have done : 14 That I thy praise, to all that gone Through daughter Sion's beauteous gate, With thankfull songs may loud relate; And may rejoyce in thy safe aid. 15 Behold, the Gentiles while they made A deadly pit my soule to drowne, Into their pit are sunken downe : In that close snare they hid for me, Loe, their owne feet entangled be. 16 By this just doome the Lord is knowne, That th' ill are punish't with their owne. 17 Downe shall the wicked backward fall To deepest hell, and nations all

18 That God forget; nor shall the poore Forgotten be for evermore.