12 Lord 'God' of Hosts 'that reign'st on high,'

That man is truly' blest,

Who 'only' on thee doth rely,
And in thee only rest.

PSALM LXXXV.

1 THY land to favour graciously
Thou hast not Lord been slack,
Thou hast from hard captivity
Returned Jacob back.

2 The iniquity thou didst forgive
That wrought' thy people woe,
And all their sin, 'that did thee grieve,'
Hast hid where none shall know.'

3 Thine anger all thou hadst removed,
And calmly' didst return

From thy fierce wrath which we had proved
Far worse than fire to burn.

4 God of our saving health and peace,
Turn us, and us restore,
Thine indignation cause to cease
Towards us, ' and chide no more.'

5 Wilt thou be angry without end,
For ever angry thus,

Wilt thou thy frowning ire extend
From age to age on us?

6 Wilt thou not turn, and hear our voice.' And us again revive,

That so thy people may rejoice

By thee preserv'd alive.

7 Cause us to see thy goodness, Lord, To us thy mercy shew,

Thy saving health to us afford,

And life in us renew.'

8 'And now what God the Lord will speak' I will go straight and' hear, For to his people he speaks peace,

And to his saints' full dear;'

To his dear saints he will speak peace,
But let them never more

Return to folly, but surcease
To trespass as before.'

9 Surely to such as do him fear
Salvation is at hand,

And glory shall ere long appear
To' dwell within our land.

10 Mercy and Truth' that long were miss'd,'
Now joyfully' are met,

'Sweet' Peace and Righteousness have kiss'd,

And hand in hand are set.

11 Truth from the earth, 'like to a flower,
Shall bud and blossom' then,'
And Justice from her heavenly bower
Look down on mortal men.'

12 The Lord will also then bestow
Whatever thing is good,

Our land shall forth in plenty throw
Her fruits to be our food.'

13 Before him Righteousness shall go
'His royal habinger,'

Then will he come, and not be slow,
His footsteps cannot err.

PSALM LXXXVI.

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, 0 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' prayers afford
Thy hearing graciously.

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

6

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 styled'
Most merciful, most true.

6

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.

7 Some sign of good to me afford,
And let my foes 'then' see,

And be ashamed; because thou Lord
Dost help and comfort me.

PSALM LXXXVII.

1 AMONG the holy mountains 'high'
Is his foundation fast,

'There seated in his sanctuary,
His temple there is placed.'

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
Öf 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 Ethiops' 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.'

PSALM LXXXVIII.

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 sore
Surcharged 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 discharged 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.

8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange, And makest me odious,

Me to them odious, 'for they change,'
And I here pent up thus.

9 Through sorrow, and affliction great,
Mine eye grows dim and dead,
Lord, all the day I thee entreat,
My hands to thee I spread.

10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead,
Shall the deceased arise,