7 Thou wilt prepare our hearts to pray, 8 Proud tyrants fhall no more opprefs; PSALM XI. Long Metre. God loves the righteous, and hates the wicked. MY Why do my foes infult and cry, refuge is the God of love; Fly, like a tim'rous, trembling dove, 2 If government be all deftroy'd, Where shall the righteous feek redress ? 3 The Lord in heav'n has fix'd his throne; His eyes farvey the world below; 4 To him all mortal things are known; His eye-lids fearch our fpirits through. If he afflicts his faints fo far, To prove their love and try their grace, 5 On impious wretches he fhall rain 6 The righteous Lord loves righteous fouls, PSALM XII. Long Metre. The faints' fafety & hope in evil times; or, fins of the 'L° A faithful man among us here Will fcarce be found, if thou delay. 2 The whole discourse, when neighbours meet, 5 The Lord, who fees the poor opprefs'd, 6 Thy word, O Lord, though often try'd, Void of deceit shall still appear; Not filver, fev'n times purify'd From drofs and mixture, fhines fo clear. 7 Thy grace fhall, in the darkest hour, Defend the holy foul from harm ; Though when the vileft men have pow'f, On ev'ry fide will finners fwarm. PSALM XII. Common Metre. Complaint of a general corruption of manners; or the promife figns of Chrift's coming to judgment. HELP, Lord, for men of virtue fail; Religion lofes ground! The fons of violence prevail, And treacheries abound. 2 Their oaths and promises they break, 3 If we reprove fome hateful lie, 4 Scoffers appear on ev'ry fide, Is rais'd to feats of pow'r and pride, PAUSE. 5 Lord, when iniquities abound, 7 "Yes, faith the Lord, now will I rife, And fet my fervants free." 8 Thy word, like filver fev'n times try'd, PSALM XIII. Long Metre. Pleading with God under desertion; or hope in darkness. I OW long, O Lord, fhall I complain Like one who feeks his God in vain ? Canft thou thy face forever hide, And I ftill pray and be deny'd ? 2 Shall I forever be forgot, As one whom thou regardeft not? 3 How long fhall my poor troubled breast Be with thefe anxious thoughts opprefs'd? And fatan, my malicious foe, Rejoice to fee me funk fo low? 4 Hear, Lord, and grant me quick relief, 5 How will the pow'rs of darkness boast, 6 Whate'er my fears or foes fuggest, PSALM XIII. Common Metre. HOW 2 How long fhall my poor lab'ring foul 3 Wrestle and toil in vain ? Thy word can all my foes control, See how the prince of darkness tries He fpreads a mift around my eyes, 4 Be thou my fun, be thou my shield; 5 Make hafte, before mine eyes are seal'd How would the tempter boast aloud Behold the fons of hell grow proud 6 But,they fhall fly at thy rebuke, He knows the terrors of thy look, D |