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PSALM V

Aug. 12, 1653.

JEHOVAH, to my words give ear,
My meditation weigh;

The voice of my complaining hear,
My King and God; for unto thee I pray.
Jehovah, thou my early voice

Shalt in the morning hear;

I' the morning I to thee with choice

Will rank my prayers, and watch till thou appear. For thou art not a God that takes

In wickedness delight;

Evil with thee no biding makes;

Fools or mad men stand not within thy sight.

All workers of iniquity

Thou hat'st; and them unblest

Thou wilt destroy that speak a lye;

The bloody and guileful man God doth detest.

But I will, in thy mercies dear,

Thy numerous mercies, go Into thy house; I, in thy fear,

Will towards thy holy temple worship low,

Lord, lead me in thy righteousness,

Lead me, because of those

That do observe if I transgress;

Set thy ways right before, where my step goes.

For, in his faltering mouth unstable,

No word is firm or sooth;

Their inside, troubles miserable;

An open grave their throat, their tongue they smooth. God, find them guilty, let them fall

By their own counsels quell'd;

Push them in their rebellions all

Still on; for against thee they have rebell'd.
Then all, who trust in thee, shall bring

Their joy; while thou from blame

Defend'st them they shall ever sing
And shall triumph in thee, who love thy name.
For thou, Jehovah, wilt be found

To bless the just man still;

As with a shield, thou wilt surround

Him with thy lasting favour and good will.

PSALM VI

Aug. 13, 1653.

LORD, in thine anger do not reprehend me,
Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;
Pity me, Lord, for I am much deject,

And very weak and faint; heal and amend me :
For all my bones, that even with anguish ake,
Are troubled, yea my soul is troubled sore,
And thou, O Lord, how long? Turn, Lord: re-

store

My soul; O save me for thy mercies sake:
For in death no remembrance is of thee;
Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise ?
Wearied I am with sighing out my days:
Nightly my couch I make a kind of sea ;
My bed I water with my tears; mine eye
Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark
I' the midst of all mine enemies that mark.

Depart from me; for the voice of my weeping
The Lord hath heard; the Lord hath heard my
prayer;

My supplication with acceptance fair

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The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping.
Mine enemies shall all be blank, and dash'd

With much confusion; then, grown red with shame,

They shall return in haste the way they came, And in a moment shall be quite abash'd.

PSALM VII.

Aug. 14, 1653.

Upon the words of Chush the Benjamite against him.

LORD, my God, to thee I fly;
Save me and secure me under
Thy protection, while I cry;
Lest, as a lion, (and no wonder)
He haste to tear my soul asunder,
Tearing, and no rescue nigh.

Lord, my God, if I have thought
Or done this; if wickedness

Be in my hands; if I have wrought
Ill to him that meant me peace;
Or to him have render'd less,
And not freed my foe for nought;

Let the enemy pursue my soul,
And overtake it; let him tread
My life down to the earth, and roll
In the dust my glory dead,

In the dust; and, there out-spread,
Lodge it with dishonour foul.

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