6 Thy words like filver feven times try'd, Thro' ages fhall endure; The men who in thy truth confide, Shall find the promise fure. WATTS. Plaim XIII. Common Metre. [b] OW long wilt thou conceal thy face? Hi When wilt thou send thy heavenly rays 2 How long fhall my diftreffed foul 3 Thy word can all my foes control, Be thou my fun, and thou my fhield, Make hafte, before my eyes are feal'd How would the tempter boaft aloud, And all the hofts of hell grow proud 5 But they fhall fly at thy rebuke, He knows the terrors of thy look, Thou wilt difplay that fovereign grace WATTE F Pfalm XIV. Common Metre. Univerfal Depravity. TOOLS in their hearts believe and fay "Or minds th' affairs of men." 2 From thoughts fo dreadful and profane And by their impious hands are done 3 The Lord, from his celeftial throne, 4 He faw that all were gone aftray, 5 Their tongues are us'd to speak deceit, 6 Such feeds of fin, that bitter root, WATTS. [b To thy bleft courts repair? that may And whilft he bows before thy throne, Tis he, whofe truly honeft heart Whofe generous tongue difdains to fpeak Who never will a flander forge, By malice whisper'd round. 4 Who vice, when dreft in pomp and power, Can treat with just neglect; And piety, tho' cloth'd in rags, 5 Who to his plighted vows and trust And tho' he promife to his lofs, 6 Who feeks not in oppreffive ways Whom no reward can ever bribe The man, who by this fteady courfe Has happinefs infur'd, When earth's foundations fhake, fhall ftand, By Providence fecur'd. TATE. Pfalm XV. Long Metre. [* or b The Virtues of a Cbriftian. WHO fhall afcend thy heavenly place, Great God, and dwell before thy face? The man who loves religion now, And humbly walks with God below. 2 Whofe hands are pure, whofe heart is clean, Whofe lips ftill fpeak the thing they mean; The Death and Resurrection of Chrift. He bears my courage up; My heart and tongue their joys exprefs, 2 "My fpirit, Lord, thou wilt not leave 3 Nor quit my body to the grave, "Thou wilt reveal the path of life, 4 Thus in the name of Chrift the Lord Jefus, whom every faint adores, Behold the tomb its prey reftores! When shall my feet arife and stand On heaven's eternal hills? There fits the Son, at God's right hand,. WATT Pfalm XVII. Common Metre. MY God, the vints of thy face Afford fuperior joy To all the flattering world can give, 2 But clouds and darkness intervene, 3 Lord, guide this wandering heart to thee; Break through the fhades of fenfe and fin, 40 let thy beams refplendent fhine, 5 Lord, raife my faith, my hope, my heart, 6 Then, though I fink in death's cold fleep, And, in the likeness of my God, Mrs. STEELE, Pfalm XVII. Long Metre. [*] W The Refurrection. HAT finners value I refign; Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine; I shall behold thy blifsful face, And ftand complete in righteoufness. |