5"'Tis written in thy great decree,
"Tis in thy book foretold of me,
"I must fulfil the Saviour's part;
"And lo! thy law is in my heart.
6 "I'll magnify thy holy law,
"And rebels to obedience draw,
"When on my cross I'm lifted high,
"Or to my crown above the sky.
7 "The Spirit shall descend, and show
"What thou hast done, and what I do;
"The wondering world shall learn thy
"Thy wisdom and thy righteousness."
PSALM 41.-L. M. [*].
Ver. 1, 2, 5.
Charity to the poor; or, pity to the afflicted
LEST is the man, whose bowels move
And melt with pity to the poor;
Whose soul, by sympathising love,
Feels what his fellow-saints endure.
2 His heart contrives for their relief
More good than his own hands can do ;
He, in the time of general grief,
Shall find the Lord has bowels 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 forgiven.
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to heaven.
PSALM 42.-C. M. [*]
Ver. 1-5. Desertion and hope; or, complaint of absence from public worship.
ITH earnest longings of the mind,
My God, to thee I look;
So pants the hunted hart to find
And taste the cooling brook.
2 When shall I see thy courts of grace, And meet my God again?
So long an absence from thy face
My heart endures with pain.
3 Temptations vex my weary soul,
And tears are my repast;
The foe insults without control,
"And where's your God at last ?"
'Tis with a mournful pleasure, now,
I think on ancient days:
Then to thy house did numbers go,
And all our work was praise.
5 But why, my soul, sunk down so ́far
Beneath this heavy load?
Why do my thoughts indulge despair,
And sin against my God?
6 Hope in the Lord, whose mighty hand
Can all thy woes remove;
For I shall yet before him stand,
And sing restoring love.
PSALM 42.-L. M. [*]
Melancholy thoughts reproved;
or, hope in affliction..
Y spirit sinks within me, Lord,
But I will call thy name to mind,
And times of past distress record,
When I have found my God was kind.
2 Huge troubles, with tumultuous noise,
Swell like a sea, and round me spread;
Thy water-spouts drown all my joys,
And rising waves roll o'er my head.
3 Yet will the Lord command his love,
When I address his throne by day!
Nor in the night his grace remove;
The night shall hear me sing and pray.
4 I'll cast myself before his feet,
And say, "My God, my heavenly rock!
"Why doth thy love so long forget
'The soul that groans beneath thy stroke?
I'll chide my heart that sinks so low:
Why should my soul indulge her grief?
Hope in the Lord, and praise him too:
He is my rest, my sure relief.
6 Thy light and truth shall guide me still;
Thy word shall my best thoughts employ
And lead me to thine holy hill,
My God, my most exceeding joy!
PSALM 44.-C. M. [b]
Ver. 1, 2, 3, 8, 15—26.
The church's complaint in persecution.
ORD, we have heard thy works of old
1L Thy works of power and grace,
When to our ears our fathers told
The wonders of their days:
2 How thou didst build thy churohes here,
And make thy gospel known;
Amongst them did thine arm appear,
Thy light and glory shone.
3 In God they boasted all the day; And in a cheerful throng
Did thousands meet to praise and pray,
And grace was all their song.
But now our souls are seiz'd with shame
Confusion fills our face,
To hear the enemy blaspheme,
And fools reproach thy grace.
5 Yet have we not forgot our God,
Nor falsely dealt with Heaven;
Nor have our steps declin'd the road
Of duty thou hast given;
6 Though dragons all around us roar
With their destructive breath,
And thine own hand has bruis'd us sore,
Hard by the gates of death.
7 We are expos'd all day to die
As martyrs for thy cause,
As sheep, for slaughter bound, we lie,
By sharp and bloody laws.
Awake, arise, Almighty Lord!
Why sleeps thy wonted grace?
Why should we look like men abhorr'd,
Or banish'd from thy face?
• Wilt thou forever cast us off,
And still neglect our cries?
Forever hide thy heavenly love
From our afflicted eyes?
10 Down to the dust our soul is bow'd,
And dies upon the ground!
Rise for our help, rebuke the proud,
And all their powers confound.
11 Redeem us from perpetual shame,
Our Saviour and our God;
We plead the honours of thy name,
The merits of thy blood.
PSALM 45.-S. M. [*]
The glory of Christ; the success of the gospel, and the Gentile church.
Y Saviour and my King,
Thy beauties are divine;
Thy lips with blessings overflow,
And every grace is thine.
2 Now make thy glory known;
Gird on thy dreadful sword,
And ride in majesty to spread
The conquest of thy word.
Strike through thy stubborn foes,
Or melt their hearts t' obey;
While justice, meekness, grace and truth
Attend thy glorious way.
4 Thy laws, O God, are right;
Thy throne shall ever stand:
And thy victorious gospel proves
A sceptre in thy hand.
5 [Thy Father and thy God
Hath without measure shed
His Spirit, like a joyful oil,
T' anoint thy sacred head.]
[Behold, at thy right hand
The Gentile church is seen,
Like a fair bride in rich attire,
And princes guard the queen.]
Fair bride, receive his love:
Forget thy father's house:
Forsake thy gods, thy idol gods,
And pay thy ord thy vows.
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