And opens all its deep distress
Before thy pitying eyes.
5 All my desires to thee are known,
And ev'ry secret fear
The meaning of each broken groan
Is notic'd by thine ear.
6 O place me by that mighty pow'r
Which to such love belongs,
Where darkness veils the eyes no more, And groans are chang'd to songs!
PSALM XXXIX. Common Metre.
1 TEACH me the measure of my days, Thou Maker of my frame;
I would survey life's narrow space,
And learn how frail I am.
2 A span is all that we can boast,
How short the fleeting time!
Man is but vanity and dust,"
In all his flow'r and prime.
3 See the vain race of mortals move
Like shadows o'er the plain;
They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all their noise is vain.
4 Some walk in honour's gaudy show,
Some dig for golden ore;
They toil for heirs, they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.
5 What should I wish or wait for then
From creatures, earth and dust?
They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.
6 This fruitless search no more be mine,
Such hopes I now recal;
My earthly prospects I resign,
And make my God my all.
PSALM XL. First Part. C. M.
Deliverance from great Distress.
1 I WAITED patient for the Lord,
He bow'd to hear my cry;
He saw me resting on his word,
And brought salvation nigh.
2 Sunk in the depths of sore distress, And all my struggles vain;
When human help seem'd daily less,
He rais'd me up again.
3 Firm on a rock he made me stand,
And taught my cheerful tongue
To praise the wonders of his hand,
In a new, thankful song.
4 I'll spread his works of grace abroad,
The saints with joy shall hear;
And sinners learn to make my God
Their only hope and fear.
-5 What mercies fill my wond'ring view!
How many, and how great!
Life is too short, and words too few,
Their numbers to repeat.
6 When I'm afflicted, poor and low,
With hope I'll never part,
For God beholds my heavy wo,
And bears me on his heart.
1 THUS saith the Lord, "Your work is vain, "Give your burnt off'rings o'er; "In dying goats and bullocks slain,
My soul delights no more.'
2 Then spake the Saviour, "Lo, I'm here,
My God, to do thy will;
Whate'er thy sacred books declare,
"Thy servant shall fulfil."
3 And see, the blest Redeemer comes,
Th' eternal Son appears;
And at th' appointed time assumes
The body God prepares!
4 Much he reveal'd his Father's grace,
And much his truth he show'd;
And preach'd the way of righteousness,
Where great assemblies stood.
5 His Father's honour touch'd his heart,
He pitied sinners' cries;
And, to fulfil a Saviour's part,
Was made a sacrifice.
6 No blood of beasts on altars shed
Could cleanse from guilt within:
But the one sacrifice he made,
Atones for all our sin.
7 Then was the great salvation spread,
And Satan's kingdom shook;
Thus, by the woman's promis'd seed,
The serpent's head was broke.
1 BLEST is the man, whose tender care*
Relieves the poor in their distress;
Whose pity wipes the widow's tear,
Whose hand supports the fatherless.
2 His heart contrives for their relief
More good than his own hand can do;
He, in the time of gen'ral grief,
Shall find the Lord has pity too.
3 His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head;
When drought, and pestilence, and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.
4 Or if he languish on his couch,
God will pronounce his sins forgiv'n;
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to heav'n.
PSALM XLII. Common Metre.
The Pleasure of Publick Worship.
1 As pants the hart for cooling streams,
When heated in the chase;
So longs my soul, O God, for thee,
And thy refreshing grace.
2 For thee, my God, the living God,
My thirsty soul doth pine;
O when shall I behold thy face,
Thou Majesty divine?
3 I sigh whene'er my musing thoughts
Those happy days present,
When I, with my religious friends,
Thy temple did frequent :
4 When I advanc'd with songs of praise,
My solemn vows to pay,
Amidst the joyful sacred throng,
Which kept the festal day.
5 Why restless, why cast down, my soul? Trust God, and he'll employ
His aid for thee, and change thy sighs
To hymns of sacred joy.
6 Why restless, why cast down, my soul?
Hope still, and thou shalt sing
The praise of him who is thy God,
Thy health's eternal spring.
1 GOD of our strength, to thee we cry;
O let us not forgotten lie!
Oppress'd with sorrows and with care,
To thy protection we repair.
2 O let thy light attend our way,
Thy truth afford its steady ray!
To Zion's hill direct our feet,
To worship at thy sacred seat.
3 Thy praise, O God, shall tune the lyre,
Thy love our joyful song inspire;
To thee, our cordial thanks be paid,
Our sure defence, our constant aid.
4 Why then dejected and distrest?
And whence the grief that fills our breast?
In God we'll hope, and to him raise
A monument of endless praise.
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