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“The wond'ring world shall learn thy grace, “Thy wisdom and thy righteousness.” PSALM 41. L. M. Charity to the poor. 1 LEST is the man whose bowels move, And melt with pity to the poor; Whose soul, by sympathising love, Feels what his fellow saints endure. 2 His heart contrives, for their relief, More good than his own hands can do: He, in the time of gen'ral grief, Shall find the Lord has bowels too. + 3 His soul shall live secure on earth, With secret blessings on his head; When drought, and pestilence, and dearth, Around him multiply their dead. 4 Or, if he languish on his couch, God will pronounce his sins forgiv'n ; Will save him with a healing touch, Or take his willing soul to heav'n. PSALM 42. First Part. C. M. Desertion and hope. l A* pants the hart for cooling streams, When heated in the chase; So longs my soul, O God, for thee, And thy refreshing grace. 2 For thee, my God, the living God, My thirsty soul doth pine : O ! when shall I behold thy face, Thou majesty divine 2 3 Tears are my constant food, while thus Insulting foes upbraid; “Deluded wretch! where is thy God? “And where his promis'd aid 2’”

4 'Tis with a mournful pleasure now
I think on ancient days;
Then to thy house did numbers go,
And all our work was praise.

5 But why’s my soul sunk down so far
Beneath this heavy load?
Why do my thoughts indulge despair,
And sin against my God?
6 Hope in the Lord, whose mighty hand,
Can all thy woes remove:
For I shall yet before him stand,
, And sing restoring love.
PSALM 42. Second Part. L. M.
Hope in affliction.
l MY spirit sinks within me, Lord,
But I will call thy name to mind;
And times of past distress record,
When I have found my God was kind.

2 Hugh troubles with tumultuous noise
Swell like a sea, and round me spread;
Thy water-spouts drown all my joys,
And rising waves roll o'er my head.

3 Yet will the Lord command his love,
When I address his throne by day,
Nor in the night his grace remove :
The night shall hear me sing and pray.

4 I’ll cast myself before his feet,
And say, “My God, my heav'nly Rock!
“Why doth thy love so long forget
“The soul, that groans beneath thy stroke 2'

5 I’ll chide my heart that sinks so low ;
Why should my soul indulge her grief?
Hope in the Lord, and praise him too :
He is my rest, my sure relief,

6 Thy light and truth shall guide me still:
Thy word shall my best thoughts employ ;
And lead me to thine heav'nly hill,
My God, my most exceeding joy.
PSALM 43. P. M.
Complaint mingled with hope.
k MY God, defend my cause
Against a host of foes:
O! save me from th' unjust,
Who triumph in my woes.
Why dost thou faint,
My trembling heart?
To God impart
Thy sad complaint.

2 Why dost thou, O my shield,

Desert me thus forlorn ?

Why, hated and oppress'd,

Thus bid me ceaseless mourn ?
To God I fly;
In God I'll trust,
When low in dust
My head shall lie.

3 Now to thy sacred house
With joy direct my feet;
Where saints, with morning vows,
In full assembly meet.
Thy power divine
Shall there be shown,
And from thy throne
Thy mercy shine.
4 O ! send thy light abroad :
Thy truth with heav'nly ray
Shall lead my soul to God'; .
And guide my doubtful way.

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I'll hearthy word
With faith sincere,
And learn to fear
And praise the Lord.

5 There reach thy bounteous hand,

And all my sorrows heal;

There health and strength divine

O! make my bosom feel.
Like balmy dew,
Shall Jesus’ voice
My bones rejoice,
My strength renew.

6 Then in thy holy hill,

Before thine altar, Lord,

My harp and song shall sound

The glories of thy word.
Henceforth to thee,
O God of grace,
A hymn of praise
My life shall be.

7 My soul, awake to joy,
And triumph in the Lord,
My health, my hope, my song,
And my divine reward.
Ye fears remove ;
No more I mourn;
But blest, return
To sing his love.
PSALM 44. C. M.
The Church's complaint in persecution.
ORD, we have heard thy works of old
Thy works of pow'r and grace;
When to our ears our fathers told
The wonders of their days:

2 How thou did'st build thy churches here,
And make thy gospel known ; t
Among them did thine arm appear,
Thy light and glory shone.

3 In God they boasted all the day,
And in a cheerful throng
Did thousands meet to praise and pray,
And grace was all their song.

4. But now our souls are seiz’d with shame,
Confusion fills our face;
To hear the enemy blaspheme,
And fools reproach thy grace.

5 Yet have we not forgot our God,
Nor falsely dealt with heav'n ;
Nor have our steps declin'd the road
Of duty thou hast giv'n.

6 Tho' dragons all around us roar, - With their destruetive breath; And thine own hand has bruis’d us sore, Hard by the gates of death.

7 We are expos'd all day to die,
As martyrs for thy cause ;
As sheep for slaughter, bound we lie,
By sharp and bloody laws.
8 Awake, arise, Almighty Lord!
Why sleeps thy wonted grace?
Why should we look like men abhorr'd
Or banish’d from thy face 2
9 Wilt thou forever cast us off,
And still neglect our cries 2
For ever hide thy heav'nly love
From our afflicted eyes?

10 Down to the dust our souls are bow’d And lie upon the ground;

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