7 How excellent his love,
Whence all our safety springs!
O never let my soul remove
From underneath his wings!
General providence and special grace.
LORD, thy mercy, my sure hope,
The highest orb of heav'n transcends;
Thy sacred truth's unmeasur'd scope
Beyond the spreading sky extends.
2 Thy justice, like the hills, remains;
Unfathom'd depths thy judgments are;
Thy providence the world sustains;
The whole creation is thy care.
3 Since of thy goodness all partake;
With what assurance should the just
Thy shelt'ring wings their refuge make:
And saints to thy protection trust.
4 Such guests shall to thy courts be led,
To banquet on thy love's repast;
And drink, as from a fountain head,
Of joys that shall forever last.
5 With thee the springs of life remain;
Thy presence is eternal day:
O! let thy grace thy saints sustain:
To upright hearts thy truth display.
PSALM 37. First Part. C. M.
The rewards of the righteous and the wicked.
1 THY should I vex my soul and fret To see the wicked rise?
Or envy sinners waxing great,
By violence and lies?
2 As flow'ry grass, cut down at noon,
Before the ev'ning fades:
So shall their glories vanish soon,
In everlasting shades.
3 Then let me make the Lord my trust,
And practise all that's good;
So shall I dwell among the just,
And he'll provide me food.
4 I, to my God, my ways commit,
And cheerful wait his will:
Thy hand, which guides my doubtful feet,
Shall my desires fulfil.
5 Mine innocence shalt thou display;
And make thy judgments known,
Fair as the light of dawning day,
And glorious as the noon.
6 The meek at last the earth possess,
And are the heirs of heav'n:
True riches, with abundant peace
To humble souls are giv'n.
7 Rest in the Lord, and keep his way,
Nor let your anger rise;
Tho' providence should long delay,
To punish haughty vice.
8 Let sinners join to break your peace,
And plot, and rage, and foam;
The Lord derides them, for he sees
Their day of vengeance come.
9 They have drawn out the threat'ning sword; Have bent the murd'rous bow,
To slay the men, that fear the Lord,
And bring the righteous low.
10 My God shall break their bows, and burn Their persecuting darts:
Shall their own swords against them turn,
And pain surprise their hearts.
PSALM 37. Second Part. C. M.
Charity to the poor.
HY do the wealthy wicked boast,
And grow profanely bold?
The meanest portion of the just
Excels the sinner's gold.
2 The wicked borrows of his friends,
But ne'er designs to pay:
The saint is merciful and lends,
Nor turns the poor away.
-3 His alms with liberal heart he gives
Amongst the sons of need:
His mem❜ry to long ages lives,
And blessed is his seed.
4 He fears to talk with lips profane,
To slander or defraud:
His ready tongue declares to men,
What he has learn'd of God.
5 The law and gospel of the Lord
Deep in his heart abide;
Led by the Spirit and the word,
His feet shall never slide.
6 When sinners fall, the righteous stand
Preserv'd from ev'ry snare;
They shall possess the promis'd land,
And dwell forever there.
The way and end of the righteous and the wicked.
God, the steps of pious men
Are ordered by thy will:
Tho' they should fall, they rise again,
Thy hand supports them still,
2 The Lord delights to see their ways,
Their virtues he approves;
He ne'er deprives them of his grace,
Nor leaves the men he loves.
3 The heav'nly heritage is theirs,
Their portion and their home:
He feeds them now, and makes them heirs
Of blessings long to come.
4 Wait on the Lord, ye sons of men,
Nor fear when tyrants frown:
Ye shall confess their pride was vain,
When justice casts them down.
5 The haughty sinner have I seen,
Not fearing man or God:
Like a tall bay-tree fair and green,
Spreading his arms abroad.
6 And lo! he vanish'd from the ground,
Destroy'd by hands unseen:
Nor root, nor branch, nor leaf was found, Where all that pride had been.
7 But mark the man of righteousness,
His several steps attend:
True pleasure runs thro' all his ways,
And peaceful is his end.
PSALM 38. C. M.
Prayer for pardon and health.
MID thy wrath remember love,
Restore thy servant, Lord;
Nor let a father's chast'ning prove
Like an avenger's sword.
2 Thine arrows stick within my heart,
My flesh is sorely prest:
Between the sorrow and the smart,
My spirit finds no rest.
3 My sins a heavy load appear,
And o'er my head are gone;
Too heavy for my soul to bear,
Too hard for me t' atone.
4 My thoughts are like a troubled sea,
My head still bending down;
And I go mourning all the day,
Beneath my father's frown.
5 Lord, I am weak and broken sore,
None of my pow'rs are whole:
The inward anguish makes me roar,
The anguish of my soul.
6 All my desire to thee is known,
Thine eye counts ev'ry tear;
And ev'ry sigh, and ev'ry groan,
Is notic'd by thine ear.
7 Thou art my God, my only hope,
My God will hear my cry:
My God will bear my spirit up,
When satan bids me die.
8 My foes rejoice to see me slide
Into the miry pit:
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