3 City of God, moft glorious things Of thee abroad are spoke;

4 I mention Ægypt, where proud Kings
Did our forefathers yoke.

I mention Babel to my friends,
Philiftia full of scorn,

And Tyre with Ethiops utmost ends,
Lo this man there was born:

5 But twice that praife shall in our car
Be faid of Sion laft,

This and this man was born in her,
High God fhall fix her faft.

6 The Lord fhall write it in a fcrowle
That ne'er fhall be out-worn,
When he the Nations doth enrowle,
That this man there was born.

7 Both they who fing, and they who dance;
With facred Songs are there,

In thee fresh brooks, and foft ftreams glance,
And all my fountains clear.

I

PSAL. LXXXVIII.

Lord God thou doft me fave and keep,

All day to thee I cry;

And all night long, before thee weep
Before thee proftrate lie.

2 Into thy prefence let my pray'r
With fighs devout afcend

And to my cries, that ceaseless are;
Thine ear with favour bend.
3 For cloy'd with woes and trouble fore
Surcharg'd my Soul doth lie,

My life at death's nnchearful door
Unto the grave draws nigh.

4 Reck'n'd I am with them that pafs
Down to the difmal pit

I am a * man, but weak alas,

And for that name unfit.

P 2

Heb, A man wirbent manly strength.

5 From

5 From life difcharg'd and parted quite
Among the dead to fleep,
And like the flain in bloody fight
That in the grave lie deep.

Whom thou remembereft no more,
Doft never more regard,

Them from thy hand deliver'd o'er
Death's hideous house hath barr'd.
6 Thou in the lowest Pit profound
Haft fet me all forlorn,

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

7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves,
Full fore doth prefs on me.

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

8 Thou doft my friends from me estrange,
And mak'ft me odious,

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

9 Through forrow, and affliction great,
Mine eye grows dim and dead,
Lord, all the day I thee intreat,
My hands to thee I fpread.

10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead,
Shall the deceas'd arise

And praise thee from their loathfom bed
With pale and hellow eyes?

II Shall they thy loving kindness tel
On whom the Grave bath hold,
Or they who in perdition dwell,
Thy faithfulness unfold?

12 In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known,

Thy juftice in the gloomy land
Of dark oblivion?

The Hebr. bears both.