Gods houses, and will now invade

†Their stately Palaces.

13 My God, oh make them as a wheel No quiet let them find,

Giddy and restless let them reel

Like stubble from the wind.

14 As when an aged wood takes fire
Which on a sudden straies,

The greedy flame runs hier and hier
Till all the mountains blaze,
15 So with thy whirlwind them pursue,
And with thy tempest chase;

16

* And till they * yield thee honour due, Lord fill with shame their face. 17 Asham'd and troubl'd let them be, Troubl'd and sham'd for ever, Ever confounded, and so die

With shame, and scape it never.

18 Then shall they know that thou whose name Jehova is alone,

Art the most high, and thou the same

O're all the earth art one.

PSAL. LXXXIV.

I How lovely are thy dwellings fair!
O Lord of Hoasts, how dear
The pleasant Tabernacles are!

Where thou do'st dwell so near.
2 My Soul doth long and almost die
Thy Courts O Lord to see,

My heart and flesh aloud do crie,
O living God, for thee.

3 There ev❜n the Sparrow freed from wrong

Hath found a house of rest,

The Swallow there, to lay her young

Hath built her brooding nest,

Ev'n by thy Altars Lord of Hoasts

They find their safe abode,

And home they fly from round the Coasts
Toward thee, My King, my God.

10

4 Happy, who in thy house reside Where thee they ever praise,

5 Happy, whose strength in thee doth bide, And in their hearts thy waies.

6 They pass through Baca's thirstie Vale, That dry and barren ground

As through a fruitfull watry Dale

Where Springs and Showrs abound.

7 They journey on from strength to strength With joy and gladsom cheer

Till all before our God at length

In Sion do appear.

8 Lord God of Hoasts hear now my praier

O Jacobs God give ear,

9 Thou God our shield look on the face Of thy anointed dear.

10 For one day in thy Courts to be
Is better, and more blest

Then in the joyes of Vanity,
A thousand daies at best.
I in the temple of my God
Had rather keep a dore,

Then dwell in Tents, and rich abode

With Sin for evermore.

II For God the Lord both Sun and Shield

Gives grace and glory bright,

No good from them shall be with-held
Whose waies are just and right.

12 Lord God of Hoasts that raign'st on high,

That man is truly blest

Who only on thee doth relie.

And in thee only rest.

PSAL. LXXXV.

I THY Land to favour graciously
Thou hast not Lord been slack,
Thou hast from hard Captivity
Returned Jacob back.

30

40

20

2 Th' iniquity thou didst forgive
That wrought thy people woe,

And all their Sin, that did thee grieve
Hast hid where none shall know.

3 Thine anger

all thou hadst remov'd,

And calmly didst return

From thy fierce wrath which we had prov'd + Heb. The

Far worse then fire to burn.

4 God of our saving health and peace,

Turn us, and us restore,

Thine indignation cause to cease
Toward us, and chide no more.

5 Wilt thou be angry without end,
For ever angry thus

Wilt thou thy frowning ire extend

From age to age on us?

*

1Ο

burning heat of thy wrath.

20

6 Wilt thou not turn, and hear our voice* Heb. Turn to

And us again * revive,

That so thy people may rejoyce

By thee preserv'd alive.

7 Cause us to see thy goodness Lord,

To us thy mercy shew

Thy saving health to us afford

And life in us renew.

8 And now what God the Lord will speak

I will go strait and hear,

For to his people he speaks peace

And to his Saints full dear,

To his dear Saints he will speak peace,

But let them never more

Return to folly, but surcease

To trespass as before.

9 Surely to such as do him fear

Salvation is at hand

And glory shall ere long appear

To dwell within our Land.

10 Mercy and Truth that long were miss'd
Now joyfully are met

Sweet Peace and Righteousness have kiss'd
And hand in hand are set.

II Truth from the earth like to a flowr
Shall bud and blossom then,

quicken us.

30

40

PSAL. LXXXVII.

I AMONG the holy Mountains high
Is his foundation fast,
There Seated in his Sanctuary,
His Temple there is plac't.

2 Sions fair Gates the Lord loves more
Then all the dwellings faire

Of Jacobs Land, though there be store,
And all within his care.

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 twise that praise shall in our ear
Be said of Sion last

This and this man was born in her,
High God shall fix her fast.

6 The Lord shall write it in a Scrowle
That ne're shall be out-worn

When he the Nations doth enrowle
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.

PSAL. 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 praier With sighs devout ascend

And to my cries, that ceaseless are,

Thine ear with favour bend.

3 For cloy'd with woes and trouble store
Surcharg'd my Soul doth lie,

My life at death's uncherful dore
Unto the grave draws nigh.

4 Reck'n'd I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit

I am a * man, but weak alas

And for that name unfit.

ΤΟ

* Heb. A man without manly strength.

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,
Dost never more regard,

Them from thy hand deliver'd o're
Deaths hideous house hath barr'd.
6 Thou in the lowest pit profound
Hast set me all forlorn,

Where thickest darkness hovers round,
In horrid deeps to mourn.

7 Thy wrath from which no shelter saves
Full sore doth press on me;

* Thou break'st upon me all thy waves,
*And all thy waves break me.

8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange,

And mak'st me odious,

Me to them odious, for they change,
And I here pent up thus.

9 Through sorrow, and affliction great
Mine eye grows dim and dead,
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 loathsom bed
With pale and hollow eyes?

II Shall they thy loving kindness tell
On whom the grave hath hold,

40