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11 Teach me, O Lord, thy way most right,
I in thy truth will bide;
So shall it never slide.
12 Thee will I praise, O Lord my God,
Thee honour and adore
Thy name for evermore.
13 For great thy mercy is toward me,
And thou hast freed my soul,
From deepest darkness foul,
14 O God, the proud against me rise,
And violent men are met
No fear of thee have set.
15 But thou, Lord, art the God most mild,
Readiest thy grace to show,
Most merciful, most true.
16 Oh turn to me thy face at length,
And me have mercy on:
And save thy handmaid's son.
17 Some sign of good to me afford,
And let my foes then see,
Dost help and comfort me.
1 AMONG the holy mountains high
Is his foundation fast; There seated is his sanctuary,
His temple there is placed.
Than all the dwellings fair
And all within his care.
3 City of God, most glorious things
Of thee abroad are spoke;
Did our forefathers yoke.
4 I mention Babel to my friends,
Philistia full of scorn ;
Lo! this man there was born:
5 But twice that praise shall in our ear
Be said of Sion last ;
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 enrol,
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;
Before thee prostrate lie.
2 Into thy presence let my prayer,
With sighs devout, ascend;
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;
And for that name unfit.
5 From life discharged and parted quite
Among the dead to sleep;
lie deep :
Whom thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard;
Death's hideous house hath barr'd.
6 Thou, in the lowest pit profound
Hast set me all forlorn,
In horrid deeps to mourn.
7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter sares,
press on me;
And all thy waves break me.
8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange,
And makest me odious;
And I here pent up thus.
9 Through sorrow and affliction great,
Mine eye grows dim and dead;
My hands to thee I spread.
10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead ?
Shall the deceased arise,
With pale and hollow eyes ?
11 Shall they thy loving-kindness tell,
On whom the grave hath hold ?
Thy faithfulness unfold ?
12 In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known?
Of dark oblivion ?
13 But I to thee, O Lord, do cry,
Ere yet my life be spent ;
doth hie Each morn, and thee prevent.
14 Why wilt thou, Lord, my soul forsake,
And hide thy face from me, 15 That am already bruised, and shake
With terror sent from thee?
Bruised and afflicted, and so low
As ready to expire,
Astonish'd with thine ire.
16 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow;
Thy threatenings cut me through : 17 All day they round about me go,
Like waves they me pursue.
And sever'd from me far:
A PARAPHRASE ON PSALM OXIV.
This and the following Psalm were done by the Author at
fifteen years old