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7 The Lord, who hates the proud,
Shall scorch the sland'rous tongue ; Shall hunt the wicked from the earth,
And well requite their wrong. 8 Thou wilt sustain the
PSALM 141. L. M.
Like morning incense in thy house; And let my nightly worship rise
Sweet as the ey'ning sacrifice. 2 Watch o'er my lips, and guard them, Lord,
From ev'ry rash and heedless word ;
The guilty path, where sinners lead. 3 O may the righteous, when I stray,
Smite and reprove my wand'ring way!
Shall never bruise but cheer my head. 4. When I behold them prest with grief,
I'll cry to heav'n for their relief;
PSALM 142. C. M.
God is the hope of the helpless. ITO
O God I made my sorrows known,
From God I sought relief ;
I pour'd out all my grief.
My heart began to break :
My God, who all my burdens knows,
Knows ev'ry way I take. 3 On ev'ry side I cast mine eye,
And found my helpers gone ; While friends and strangers pass’d me by
Neglected or unknown. 4 Then did I raise a louder
cry, And call'd thy mercy near ; " Thou art my portion, when I die:
“ Be thou my refuge here." 5 Lord, I am brought exceeding low;
Now let thine ear attend, And make my foes, who vex me, know,
I've an Almighty Friend. 6 From my sad prison set me free;
Then shall I praise thy name :
PSALM 143. L. M.
Y righteous Judge, my gracious God!
Hear, when I spread my hands abroad, And cry for succour from thy throne :
O make thy truth and mercy known ! 2 Let judgment not against me pass ;
Behold thy servant pleads thy grace :
No living man is guiltless there.
The mighty woes that burden me:
My thoughts in musing silence trace
To bear my sinking spirits up;
And thirst, like parched lands, for rain. 6 For thee I thirst, I pray, I mourn ;
When will thy smiling face return ?
And God forever hide his love?
How would my wearied pow'rs rejoice!
And wear the tiresome hours away.
Which is the path, my feet should go ;
I flee to hide me near my God.
And lead me to thy heav'nly hill ;
Conduct me to thy courts above.
The tempter then shall rage in vain :
PSALM 144. First Part. C. M.
Victory in the spiritual warfare. 1 OR ever blessed be the Lord,
My Saviour and my shield;
To arm me for the field.
He makes my soul his care;
And guards me thro’ the war. 3 A friend and helper so divine, Does
The vanity of man. 1 ORD, what is man, poor feeble man,
His life a shadow, light and vain,
Still hast’ning to the dust. 2 O what is feeble dying man,
Or any of his race,
To visit him with grace! 3 That God, who darts his lightnings down;
Who shakes the worlds above ;
The happy nation.
Like pillars round a palace set,
2 Happy the country, where the sheep,
Cattle, and corn, have large increase ;
Nor sons of plunder break their peace.
But more divinely blest are those,
The greatness of God.
Shall fill the remnant of my days; Thy grace employ my humble tongue,
Till death and glory raise the song.
Some thankful tribute to thine ear;
New works of duty done for thee,
And speak thy majesty divine :
The sound and honour of thy name.
The long succession of thy praise ;
The joy and labour of their tongue.