With my whole heart, and blaze abroad 13. For great thy mercy is toward me, 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 styľ d Most merciful, most true. 16. O, turn to me thy face at length, 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. PSALM LXXXVII. 1. AMONG the holy mountains high Is his foundation fast ; There seated in his sanctuary, 2. Sion's fair gates the Lord loves more Of Jacob's land, though there be store, 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 Ethiops' utmost ends, Lo this man there was born: 5. But twice that praise shall in our ear Be said of Sion last; 1 This and this man was born in her; 6. The Lord shall write it in a scroll 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, 3. For, cloy'd with woes and trouble sore, Surcharg'd my soul doth lie; My life, at Death's unchearful door, 4. Reckon'd I am with them that Down to the dismal pit ; I am a man, but weak alas! And for that name unfit. pass 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, Them, from thy hand deliver'd o'er, Where thickest darkness hovers round, 7. Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves, And all thy waves break me. 3. Thou dost my friends from me estrange, And mak'st me odious, Me to them odious, for they change, 9. Through sorrow, and affliction great, Lord, all the day I thee entreat, My hands to thee I spread. 10. Wilt thou do wonders on the dead? Shall the deceas'd arise, And praise thee from their loathsome bed, With pale and hollow eyes? 11. Shall they thy loving kindness tell, Or they, who in perdition dwell, |