With Joy triumphant fhall they move
To Seats of nobler Life above.

LX. Praife for Recovery from Sickness. Pfalm cxviii. 18, 19.

I SOVEREIGN of Life, I own thy Hand
In ev'ry chaft'ning Stroke;

And, while I fmart beneath thy Rod,"
Thy Prefence I invoke.

2 To Thee in my Diftrefs I cried,
And Thou haft bow'd thine Ear;
Thy pow'rful Word my Life prolong'd
And brought Salvation near.

3 Unfold, ye Gates of Righteoufnefs,
That, with the pious Throng,
I may record my folemn Vows,
And tune my grateful Song.

4 Praife to the LORD, whofe gentle Hand
Renews our lab'ring Breath:
Praise to the LORD, who makes his Saints
Triumphant ev'n in Death.

5 My GOD, in thine appointed Hour
Thofe heav'nly Gates difplay,

Where Pain and Sin, and Fear and Death
For ever flee away.

6 There, while the Nations of the Blefs'd
With Raptures bow around,

My Anthems to deliv'ring Grace
In fweeter Strains fhall found.

LXI. Regard to Scripture prefed upon young Perfons, that they may cleanfe their Way. Plalm cxix. 9.

I

INDULGENT GOD, with pitying Eye
The Sons of Men furvey,

And fee how youthful Sinners fport
In a destructive Way.

2 Ten thousand Dangers lurk around
To bear them to the Tomb;

3

Each in an Hour may plunge them down,
Where Hope can never come.

Reduce, O LORD, their wand'ring Minds,
Amus'd with airy Dreams,

That heav'nly Wisdom may dispel,
Their vifionary Schemes.

4 With holy Caution may they walk,
And be thy Word their Guide;
Till each, the Defart safely pass'd,
On Zion's Hill abide.

LXII. Defires of being quickened by the Word of GOD. Pfalm cxix. 25.

IWITH Pity, LORD, thy Servant view,

As in the Duft I lie,

Nor, while I raise my plaintive * Voice,
Difdain the broken Cry.

2 Fain would I mount on Eagles Wings,
And view thy lovely Face;

* Mournful.

But

But cumb'rous Burdens drag me down
From thine ador'd Embrace.

3 Thy quick'ning Energy diffufe
O'er all my inmoft Frame;
And animate thefe languid Lips
To celebrate thy Name.

4 Thy living Word has Wonders wrought;
Those Wonders here renew;

5

And pour fresh Vigour thro' my Soul,
While I its Glories view.

From Thee, Great ever-flowing Spring,
Let vital Streams defcend;

And chear me to begin thofe Songs,
Which Death shall never end.

LXIII. Human Perfection no where to be found.
Pfalm cxix. 96.

1 PERFECTION! 'Tis an empty Name,
Nor can repay our Cares;
And he, that feeks it here below,
Muft end the Search with Tears.

2 Great David on his royal Throne,
The beauteous, and the strong,
Rich in the Spoils of conquer'd Foes,
Amidst the applauding Throng,

3 With all his Mind's capacious Pow'rs,
Purfu'd the Shade in vain ;

Nor heard it his melodious Voice,
Or Harp's Angelic Strain.

D 4

4 From

4 From public to domeftic Scenes
Th' impatient Monarch turns ;
The Friend, the Hufband, and the Sire *
In fad Succeffion mourns.

5 At length thy Law, Eternal God,
He thro' his Tears défcries †,
And, wrapt amidst thofe facred Folds,
He finds the heav'nly Prize.

6 There will I feek Perfection too,
Where David's GOD is known ?
Nor envy, with this Volume bleft,
His Treafures and his Throne.

LXIV. Beholding Tranfgreffors with Grief. Pfalm
Cxix. 136, 158.

I ARISE, my tend'reft Thoughts, arife;
To Torrents melt my ftreaming Eyes;
And thou, my Heart, with Anguifh feel
Thofe Evils, which thou canst not heal.
2 See human Nature funk in Shame;
See Scandals pour'd on Jefus' Name ;
The Father wounded thro' the Son;
The World abus'd; the Soul undonë.
3 See the fhort Courfe of vain Delight
Clofing in everlasting Night;

In Flames, that no Abatement know,
Tho' briny Tears for ever flow.

4 My God, I feel the mournful Scene;
My Bowels yearn o'er dying Men;

And

And fain my Pity would reclaim,

And fnatch the Fire-brands from the Flame.

5 But feeble my Compaffion proves,
And can but weep, where most it loves:
Thy own all-faving Arm employ,
And turn thefe Drops of Grief to Joy.

LXV. The wandering Sheep recovered. Pfalm cxix. 176.

LORD, we have wander'd from the Way; Like foolish Sheep, we have gone aftray;

Our pleasant Paftures we have left, And of their Guard our Souls bereft *. 2 Expos'd to Want, expos'd to Harm; Far from our gentle Shepherd's Arm; Nor will these fatal Wand'rings ceafe, Till Thou reveal the Paths of Peace.

3

O feek thy thoughtless Servants, Lord,
Nor let us quite forget thy Word;
Our erring Souls do Thou reftore,
And keep us, that we ftray no more.
* Deprived.

LXVI. The weeping Seed-time, and joyful Harvest. Pfalm cxxvi. 5, 6.

I THE

'HE darken'd Sky, how thick it lours! Troubled with Storms, and big with No chearful Gleam of Light appears, [Show'rs; But Nature pours forth all her Tears.

D 5

2 Yet