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LORD, judge thou me and plead my right With such as cruel be:

From wicked men, that use deceit

Oh God! deliver me.

For since thou, Lord, my fortress art,
Why shouldst thou from me goe?
Why should I walk so sad in hart,
Oppressed by my foe?

Mee let thy Light and Truth's bright raies,

Unto thy dwelling bring:

And at thine Altars to thy praise
Oh! God my Joye I'le sing.
My Soul, why art thou so opprest?
Why art thou sad in me?

Still praise thou God, and on him rest: For he my God will be.

GEORGE WITHER (1583-1667).


O GOD! we with our ears have heard,
Our fathers have us told,

What work Thou wroughtest in their days

The famous days of old.

Thou didst the heathen dispossess,
And plantedst them therein :
They by the sword got not the Land,
Nor by their arm did win;

But Thou by thy right hand and arm, Didst mightily befriend;

Their conquests multiply, their bounds On every hand extend.

Thou art my King: Do Thou, O God, Deliverance command

Once more for Jacob; yet once more Display. Thy helping hand.

Through Thee we will push down our foes,

Trample and put to shame;
For I'll not trust in bow or sword;
But only in Thy Name.

Thou hast our adversaries quelled, And chased their flying ranks: In Thee we made all day our boast, To Thee will still give thanks.

But now Thou hast us quite cut off,
And to dishonor brought:

Thou hast not gone forth with our hosts,

Nor on our side hast fought:

And they who hate have us for spoil;
We at their feet are flung:
Thou givest us as sheep for food,
And scatterest them among.

Thy people Thou dost sell for nought; We're sneered at without rest! Among the nations a by-word,

The Gentiles' constant jest.

I have all day before mine eyes
These tokens of disgrace;
The shame of their loud blasphemies
Calls blushes to my face.

All this has come upon us, Lord!
But we've not Thee forgot;
Nor false been to Thy covenant;
From Thee departed not:

Though Thou hast crushed us in the place

Of jackals howling near; Hast shrouded us with shades of night, And blackest glooms of fear.

If we've the Name of God forgot,

And played a treacherous part; Shall God not search this out? He knows

The secrets of the heart.

We're all day long for Thy sake slain;
Accounted are as sheep
Designed for slaughter, each in turn,
Our life is held so cheap.

Awake: why sleepest Thou, O Lord? Arise for our relief:

Why hidest Thou Thy face from us, Forgetful of our grief?

For to the dust are we bowed down,
We cleave unto the clod-

Rise to our help, redeem us for
Thy mercies' sake, O God!



Lo, mine heart indites good matter,
Things whereof the king well knows,
Pen-like of a ready writer,

From my tongue the essence flows.
Fairer art thou than men's children,
Grace upon thy lips is poured,
God hath blessed thy name forever,
O thou favoured of the Lord.

Gird thyself and press thou forward In thy strength and glory bright,

In thy majesty ride onward,

In thy meekness and thy might.

Thy right hand shall teach thee surely
Things that full of terror be.
Sharp thine arrows are: the en'mies
Of the king fall under thee.

Lo, thy throne is God's for ever,
It for ever shall endure,
And the sceptre of thy kingdom
Is a righteous sceptre sure.
Righteousness thou ever lovest,
Sin no lodging has with thee,
Therefore over all thy fellows

God anoints thee, king to be.

Sweet with spices are thy garments, From the ivory dwellings fair, Sounds of richest, sweetest psaltery Hail thy rising everywhere. Daughters of the kings surround thee, 'Midst thy maidens fair and bright, Robed in finest gold of Ophir

Stands thy queen upon thy right.

Hearken unto me, O daughter,
To my words thine ear incline,
Cease thy father to remember,

Home and people-all that's thine;
Then the king shall seek thy beauty;
He thy lord is-bow to him;
Maids of Tyre, the richest, fairest,
Thou o'er all shalt reign supreme.

Crowned with glory 'midst the maidens.
Is the daughter of the king,
Richly robed into thy presence
She the virgins forth shall bring
They shall enter in rejoicing.
Full of beauty, proud of birth;
Not thy fathers, but thy children
Shall be princes in the earth.

I will make thy name remembered
Onward, as the ages flow,
And the coming generations
Gratitude to thee shall show.


A SAFE stronghold our God is still,
A trusty shield and weapon;
He'll help us clear from all the ill
That hath us now o'ertaken.
The ancient Prince of hell
Hath risen with purpose fell;

Strong mail of craft and power He weareth in this hour; On earth is not his fellow.

With force of arms we nothing can,
Full soon were we down-ridden;
But for us fights the proper man,
Whom God himself hath bidden.
Ask ye, who is this same?
Christ Jesus is His name.
The Lord Zebaoths son-
He and no other one
Shall conquer in the battle.

And were this world all devils o'er,
And watching to devour us,

We lay it not to heart so sore,
Not they can overpower us.
And let the Prince of ill
Look grim as e'er he will,
He harms us not a whit:
For why? His doom is writ,
One little word shall slay him.

That word, for all their craft and force, One moment will not linger,

But, spite of hell, shall have its course, 'Tis written by his finger.

And though they take our life,
Goods, honor, children, wife,
Yet is their profit small:
These things shall vanish all,
The city of God remaineth.

MARTIN LUTHER (1483-1546).
Translated by THOMAS CARLYLE


CLASP your hands with adoration, Sing to God your loudest lays; King of every land and nation Worthy of immortal praise.

He will have the realms subjected, All opposing powers removed; He for us the lot selected,

Jacob's glory whom he loved.

God ascends with acclamation,
Trumpets hail their glorious King;
Shout his praise with adoration,
Everlasting praises sing.

Sing his praise with understanding,
Make his truth and love be known;

God, the King, the world commanding, Over all exalts his throne.

Kings and peoples honors yielding, Raise to him their loudest song; Abram's God the sceptre wielding, He to whom earth's shields belong. ABNER JONES.

(Published New York, 1860.)


GREAT is the Lord, and greatly he
Is to be praised still,
Within the city of our God,
Upon his holy hill.

Mount Sion stands most beautifui,
The joy of all the land;
The city of the mighty King
On her north side doth stand.

The Lord within her palaces
Is for a refuge known.
For, lo, the Kings that gather'd were
Together, by have gone.

But when they did behold the same,
They, wond'ring would not stay;
But being troubled at the sight,
They thence did haste away.

Great terror there took hold on them,
They were possess'd with fear;
Their grief came like a woman's pain,
When she a child doth bear.

SCOTLAND (1895).


ALL people hearken and give eare,
To that that I shall tell:

Both high and low, both rich and poor
That in the worl do dwel.

For why? my mouth shall make dis


Of many things right wise:
In understanding shall my hart,
His study exercise.

I will incline my eares to know,
The parables so darke:
And open al my doubtful speech
In meeter on my Harpe.

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