XXXVIII.

WINDSOR.

C. M.

THY chast'ning wrath, O Lord, restrain,

Though I deserve it all;

Nor let at once on me the storm

Of thy displeasure fall.

For, Lord, before thy searching eyes
All my desires appear;

And sure my groans have been too loud
Not to have reach'd thine ear.

Forsake me not, O Lord my God,
Nor far from me depart;

Make haste to my relief, O thou,
Who my salvation art.

LORD, let me know my term of days,
How soon my life will end;
The num'rous train of ills disclose,
Which this frail state attend.

My life, thou know'st, is but a span,
A cipher sums my years;
And every man, in best estate,
But vanity appears.

Man like a shadow vainly walks,
With fruitless cares oppress'd;
He heaps up wealth, but cannot tell
By whom 'twill be possess'd.

Why then should I on worthless toys
With anxious care attend?

On thee alone my stedfast hope

Shall ever, Lord, depend.

C. M.

I WAITED meekly for the Lord;
He bow'd to hear my cry;
He saw me resting on his word,
And brought salvation nigh.
He rais'd me from a horrid pit
Where mourning long I lay;
And from my bands releas'd my feet,
Deep bands of miry clay.

Firm on a rock he made me stand;
And taught my cheerful tongue
To praise the wonders of his hand,
In a new thankful song.

I'll spread his works of grace abroad,
The saints with joy shall hear,
And sinners learn to make my God
Their only hope and fear.

C. M.

C. M.

HAPPY the man whose tender care
Relieves the poor distrest;

When troubles compass him around,
The Lord shall give him rest.

The Lord his life, with blessings crown'd,
In safety shall prolong;
And disappoint the will of those
That seek to do him wrong.

If he, in languishing estate,
Oppress'd with sickness lie;
The Lord will easy make his bed,
And inward strength supply.

Let therefore Israel's Lord and God
From age to age be bless'd;
And all the people's glad applause
With loud Amen's express'd.

XLII.

MARTYRDOM.

C. M.

AS pants the hart for cooling streams,
When heated in the chase;
So longs my soul, O God, for thee,
And thy refreshing grace.

For thee, my God, the living God,
My thirsty soul doth pine:
O when shall I behold thy face,
Thou Majesty divine!

Why restless, why cast down, my soul?
Trust God, who will employ

His aid for thee, and change these sighs
To thankful hymns of joy.

And when thy presence, Lord of life,
Has once dispell'd this storm,
To thee I'll midnight anthems sing,
And all my vows perform.

SINCE thou art still my only stay,
Why leav'st thou me in deep distress?
Why go I mourning all the day,
Whilst me insulting foes oppress?

Let me with light and truth be blest,
Be these my guides to lead the way,
Till on thy holy hill I rest,

And in thy sacred temple pray.

Then will I there fresh altars raise,
To God, who is my only joy;

L. M.

And well-tun'd harps, with songs of praise,

Shall all my grateful hours employ.

Why then cast down, my soul? and why
So much oppress'd with anxious care?
On God, thy God, for aid rely,
Who will thy ruin'd state repair.

O LORD, our fathers oft have told
In our attentive ears,

Thy wonders in their days perform'd,
And elder times than theirs.

For not their courage, nor their sword,
To them possession gave;

Nor strength, that from unequal force
Their fainting troops could save:
But thy right hand and powerful arm,
Whose succour they implor'd;
Thy presence with the chosen race,
Who thy great name ador’d.

As thee their God our fathers own'd,
Thou art our sov'reign King;
O therefore as thou didst to them,
To us deliv'rance bring.

To thee the triumph we ascribe,
From whom the conquest came;
In God we will rejoice all day,
And ever bless his name.

C. M.

DRESS thee in arms, most mighty Lord!
Gird on the terror of thy sword!

In majesty and glory ride,

With truth and meekness at thy side.

Thy throne, O God, for ever stands ;
Grace is a sceptre in thy hands;
Thy laws and works are just and right,
Justice and grace are thy delight.

God, thine own God, has richly shed
His oil of gladness on thy head,
And with his sacred Spirit blest
His first-born Son above the rest.

L. M.

P. M.

XLVI.

WILMINGTON.

GOD is our refuge in distress,
A present help when dangers press;
In him undaunted we'll confide,

Though earth were from her centre tost,
And mountains in the ocean lost,

Hurl'd downward by the roaring tide.

A gentler stream with gladness still
The city of our God shall fill,

The royal seat of God most high :
God dwells in Sion, whose fair towers
Shall mock th' assaults of earthly pow'rs,
While his almighty aid is nigh.

Submit to God's almighty sway,
For him the heathen shall obey,

And earth her sov'reign Lord confess;
The God of hosts conducts our arms,
Our tow'r of refuge in alarms,

Our home and solace in distress.

XLVII.

WESTON FAVEL.

ARISE, ye saints, with joyful mirth,
Prepare your hearts to sing;
Let all the people of the earth
Confess th' Almighty King.

God hath ascended up on high,
With trumpets' loudest voice;
He sits enthron'd above the sky;
In God the Lord rejoice.

He reigns with holiness and power
On his eternal throne;

Then let the lands his grace adore,
And him their Saviour own.

C. M.