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"The man is blest that God, &c."

ON thee, O Lord my God, relies
My onely trust: from bloudy spight
Of all my raging enemies

Oh! let thy mercy me acquite.
2 Lest they, like greedy lyons, rend
My soule, while none shall it defend.
3 O Lord, if I this thing have wrought,
If in my hands be found such ill;
4 If I with mischiefe ever sought
To pay good turnes, or did not still
Doe good unto my causlesse foe,
That thirsted for my overthrow;
5 Then, let my foe in eager chase,
O'ertake my soule, and proudly tread
My life below, and with disgrace
In dust lay downe mine honour dead.
6 Rise up in rage, O Lord, eft soone
Advance thine arme against my fo'ne;
And wake for me, till thou fulfill
7 My promis'd right: so shall glad throngs
Of people Hocke unto thy hill.

For their sakes then revenge my wrongs, 8 And rouse thyselfe. Thy judgements be O'er all the world: Lord, judge thou me. As truth and honest innocence

Thou find'st in me, Lord, judge thou me : 9 Settle the just with sure defence:

Let me the wicked's malice see 10 Brought to an end. For thy just eye Doth heart and inward reines descry:

11 My safety stands in God, who shields

The sound in heart: whose doome, each day,

12 To just men and contemners yeelds
13 Their due. Except he change his way,
His sword is whet, to blood intended."
His murdering bow is ready bended.

14 Weapons of death he hath addrest
And arrowes keene to pierce my foe,
15 Who late bred mischiefe in his breast;
But, when he doth on travell goe,

16 Brings forth a lye; deep pits doth delve, And fall into his pits himselve.

17 Back to his owne head shall rebound

His plotted mischiefe; and his wrongs
18 His crowne shall craze: But I shall sound
Jehovah's praise with thankfull songs,
And will his glorious name expresse,
And tell of all his righteousnesse.



"Ye children which, &c."

How noble is thy mighty Name,
O Lord, o'er all the world's wide frame,
Whose glory is advanc'd on high
Above the rowling heavens' rack!
2 How for the gracelesse scorner's sake,
To still th' avenging enemy,

Hast thou thy tender infants' tongue,
The praise of thy great name made strong,
While they hang sucking on the brest!
3 But, when I see the heavens bright,
The moone and glittering stars of night,
By thine almighty hand addrest,
4 Oh! what is man, poore silly man,
That thou so mind'st him, and dost daine
To looke at his unworthy seed!

5 Thou hast him set not much beneath
Thine angels bright; and, with a wr
Of glory, hast adorn'd his head.
6 Thou hast him made high soveraigne
7 Of all thy workes, and stretch'd his raigne
Unto the heards and beasts untame,

8 To fowles, and to the scaly traine,
.That glideth through the watry maine.
9 How noble each-where is thy Name.



"Preserve us, Lord."

THEE, and thy wondrous deeds, O God,

With all my soule I sound abroad:

2 My joy, my triumph is in thee.

Of thy dread Name my song shall be, 3 O highest God: since put to flight, And fal'ne and vanish't at thy sight 4 Are all my foes; for thou hast past Just sentence on my cause at last; And, sitting on thy throne above, A rightful Judge thyselfe dost prove : 5 The troups profane thy checks have stroid, And made their name for ever void.

6 Where's now, my foes, your threat'ned wrack? So well you did our cities sack,

And bring to dust; while that ye say,
Their name shall dye as well as they !

7 Loe, in the eternall state God sits,
And his high throne to justice fits:

8 Whose righteous hand the world shal weeld, And to all folke just doome shall yeeld.

9 The poore from high find his releefe; The poore in needfull times of griefe: 10 Who knows thee, Lord, to thee shall cleave, That never dost thy clients leave.

11 Oh! sing the God that doth abide,
On Sion Mount; and blazon wide
12 His worthy deeds. For he pursues
The guiltlesse blood with vengeance due:
He minds their cause, nor can passe o'er
Sad clamours of the wronged poore.
13 Oh! mercy, Lord: thou, that do'st save
My soule from gates of death and grave:
Oh! see the wrong my foes have done :
14 That I thy praise, to all that gone
Through daughter Sion's beauteous gate,
With thankfull songs may loud relate;
And may rejoyce in thy safe aid.
15 Behold, the Gentiles while they made
A deadly pit my soule to drowne,
Into their pit are sunken downe:

In that close snare they hid for me,
Loe, their owne feet entangled be.
16 By this just doome the Lord is knowne,
That th' ill are punish't with their owne.
17 Downe shall the wicked backward fall
To deepest hell, and nations all

18 That God forget; nor shall the poore Forgotten be for evermore.

The constant hope of soules opprest
19 Shall not aye dye. Rise from thy rest,

O Lord. Let not men base and rude
Prevaile judge thou the multitude
20 Of lawlesse Pagans: strike pale feare
Into those brests, that stubborne were:
And let the Gentiles feele and find,
They beene but men of mortall kind.



"O God, consider."

WHY stand'st thou, Lord, aloofe so long, And hid'st thee in due times of need, 2 While lewd men proudly offer wrong Unto the poore? In their owne deed And their device, let them be caught. 3 For, loe, the wicked braves and boasts, In his vile and outragious thought; And blesseth him, that ravines most. 4 On God he dares insult: his pride Scornes to enquire of powers above; But his stout thoughts have still deni'd 5 There is a God. His wayes yet prove Aye prosperous: thy judgements hye Doe farre surmount his dimmer sight. 6 Therefore doth he all foes defie:

His heart saith, I shall stand in spight, Nor ever move; nor danger 'bide. 7 His mouth is fill'd with curses foule, And with close fraud: his tongue doth hide 8 Mischiefe and ill: he seekes the soule

Of harmelesse men, in secret wait;
And, in the corners of the street,

Doth shed their blood: with scorne and hate,
His eyes upon the poore are set.

9 As some fell lion in his den,

He closely lurks, the poore to spoyle:
He spoiles the poore and helplesse men,
When once he snares them in his toyle.

10 He crowcheth low in cunning wile,

And bowes his brest; whereon whole throngs
Of poore, whom his faire shewes beguile,
Fall to be subject to his wrongs.

11 God hath forgot, in soule he sayes:

He hides his face to never see. 12 Lord God, arise, thy hand up-raise : Let not thy poore forgotten be.

13 Shall these insulting wretches scorne

Their God; and say, thou wilt not care?
14 Thou see'st (for all thou hast forborne)
Thou see'st what all their mischiefes are;
That to thy hand of vengeance just
Thou maist them take: the poore distressed
Relye on thee with constant trust,
The helpe of orphans and oppressed.
15 Oh! breake the wickeds' arme of might,
And search out all their cursed traines,
And let them vanish out of sight.

16 The Lord, as King, for ever reignes.

From forth his coasts, the heathen sect 17 Are rooted quite: thou, Lord, attend'st To poore men's suits; thou do'st direct Their hearts to them thine eare thou bend'st; 18 That thou mayst rescue from despight, The wofull fatherlesse and poore: That so, the vaine and earthen wight On us may tyrannize no more.

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