14 O God, the Proud against me rife, And violent men are met

To seek my life; and in their eyes

No fear of thee have set..

15 But thou, Lord, art the God moft mild,
Readiest thy grace to shew;

Slow to be angry, and art styl'd
Most merciful, most true.
16 O turn to me thy face at length,
And me have mercy on;

Unto thy servant give thy strength,
And save thy hand-maid's Son.
17 Some fign of good to me afford,
And let my foes then fee,
And be asham'd, because thou, Lord,
Dost help and comfort me.

I

A

PSAL. LXXXVII.

Mong the holy Mountains bigh
Is his foundation fast ;

There feated in bis Sanctuary,

His Temple there is placed.

2 Sion's fair Gates the Lord loves more
Than all the dwellings fair

Of Jacob's Land; though there be ftore,
And all within his care.

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

:

41

4 I mention Egypt, where proud Kings

Did our Forefathers yoke :

I mention Babel to my friends,
Philistia full of Scorn,

And Tyre with Ethiops' utmost ends,
Lo! this man there was born.

5 But twice that praise shall in our ear
Be faid of Sion laft,

This and this man was born in her;
High God shall fix her faft.

6 The Lord shall write it in a Scroll
That ne'er shall be out-worn,
When he the nations doth enroll,
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 soft ftreams glance,
And all my fountains clear.

L

PSAL. LXXXVIII.

Ord 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 presence let my pray'r
With fighs devout afcend;
And to my cries, that ceaseless are,
Thine ear with favour bend.

:

3 For 3 For cloy'd with woes, and trouble fore,

Surcharg'd, my Soul doth lie;

My life at death's uncbearful door

Unto the grave draws nigh.

4 Reckon'd I am with them that pafs

Down to the dismal pit;

I am a * man, but weak alas!

And for that name unfit.

* Heb. A man without manly ftrengtha

5 From life discharg'd and parted quite,

Among the dead to fleep,

L

And like the flain in bloody fight,

That in the Grave lie deep :
Whom thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard
Them from thy hand deliver'd o'er
Death's hideous house bath barr'd.
6 Thou in the lowest Pit profound
Hast set me all forlorn,
Where thickest darkness hovers round,
In horrid deeps to mourn.

7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter Saves,

Full fore doth press on me;

* Thou break'st upon me all thy waves. * The Hebr.

* And all thy waves break me.

bears both.

8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange,

And mak'st me odious;

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

Through forrow, and affliction great,
Mine Eye grows dim and dead;

:

Lord, AYLOR I

:

BEQU

THE C

ROBERT

OF BALL