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13 Before him Righteousness shall go,

His royal harbinger :
Then will he come, and not be slow,

His footsteps cannot err.


1 Thy gracious ear, O Lord, incline,

O hear me, I thee pray;
For I am poor, and almost pine

With need, and sad decay.

2 Preserve my soul ; for I have trod

Thy ways, and love the just;
Save thou thy servant, O my God,

Who still in thee doth trust.

3 Pity me, Lord, for daily thee 4 I call ; O make rejoice Thy servant's soul ; for, Lord, to thee

I lift my soul and voice.

5 For thou art good, thou, Lord, art prone

To pardon, thou to all
Art full of mercy, thou alone

To them that on thee call.

6 Unto my supplication, Lord,

Give ear, and to the cry
Of my incessant

Thy hearing graciously.


7 I, in the day of my distress,

Will call on thee for aid ;
For thou wilt grant me free access,

And answer what I pray'd.

8 Like thee among the Gods is none,

O Lord ; nor any works
Of all that other Gods have done

Like to thy glorious works.

9 The Nations all whom thou hast made

Shall come, and all shall frame
To bow them low before thee, Lord,

And glorify thy Name.

10 For great thou art, and wonders great

By thy strong hand are done :
Thou, in thy everlasting seat,

Remainest God alone.

11 Teach me, O Lord, thy way most right;

I in thy truth will bide ;
To fear thy Name my heart unite,

So shall it never slide.

12 Thee will I praise, O Lord my God,

Thee honour and adore
With my whole heart, and blaze abroad

Thy Name for evermore.

13 For great thy mercy is toward me,

And thou hast freed my soul,
Even from the lowest hell set free,

From deepest darkness foul.

14 O God, the proud against me rise,

And violent men are met
To seek my life, and in their eyes

No fear of thee have set.

15 But thou, Lord, art the God most mild,

Readiest thy grace to shew,
Slow to be angry, and art styl'd

Most merciful, most true.

16 O, turn to me thy face at length,

And me have mercy on;
Unto thy servant give thy strength,

And save thy handmaid's son.

17 Some sign of good to me afford,

And let my foes then see,
And be asham'd; because thou, Lord,

Dost help and comfort me.


1 AMONG the holy mountains high

Is his foundation fast;
There seated in his sanctuary,

His temple there is plac'd.

2 Sion's fair gates the Lord loves more

Than all the dwellings fair
Of Jacob's land, though there be store,

And all within his care.

3 City of God, most glorious things

Of thee abroad are spoke; 4 I mention Egypt, where proud kings

Did our forefathers yoke.

I mention Babel to my friends,

Philistia full of scorn ;
And Tyre with Ethiop's utmost ends,

Lo this man there was born :

5 But twice that praise shall in our ear

Be said of Sion last ;
This and this man was born in her ;

High God shall fix her fast.

6 The Lord shall write it in a scroll

That ne'er shall be out-worn, When he the nations doth inroll,

That this man there was born.

7 Both they who sing, and they who dance,

With sacred songs are there; In thee fresh brooks and soft streams glance,

And all my fountains clear.


1 LORD God, that dost me save and keep,

All day to thee I cry;
And all night long before thee weep,

Before thee prostrate lie.

2 Into thy presence let my prayer

With sighs devout ascend;
And to my cries, that ceaseless are,

Thine ear with favour bend.

3 For, cloy'd with woes and trouble store,

Surcharg'd my soul doth lie;
My life, at Death's uncheerful door,

Unto the grave draws nigh.

4 Reckon'd I am with them that pass

Down to the dismal pit ;
I am a man, but weak, alas!

And for that name unfit.

5 From life discharg’d and parted quite

Among the dead to sleep;
And like the slain in bloody fight,

That in the grave lie deep,

Whom thou rememberest no more,

Dost never more regard,
Them, from thy hand deliver'd o'er,

Death's hideous house hath barr'd.

6 Thou in the lowest pit profound

Hast set me all forlorn,
Where thickest darkness hovers round,

In horrid deeps to mourn.

7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves,

Full sore doth press on me ;
Thou break’st upon me all thy waves,

And all thy waves break me.


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