Then will he come, and not be slow,
His footsteps cannot err.

PSALM LXXXVL

1 THY gracious ear, O Lord, incline, O hear me, I thee pray;

For I am poor. and almost pine

With need, and sad decay.

2 Preserve my soul, for + I have trod Thy ways, and love the just;

55

5

Save thou thy servant, O my God,
Who still in thee doth trust.

3 Pity me, Lord, for daily thee

I call; 40 make rejoice

10

Thy servant's soul; for, Lord, to thee

I lift my soul and voice.

5 For thou art good, thou, Lord, art prone

To pardon, thou to all

Art full of mercy, thou alone

To them that on thee call.
6 Unto my supplication, Lord,
Give ear, and to the cry
Of my incessant pray'rs afford
Thy hearing graciously.

7 I, in the day of my distress,

Will call on thee for aid;

For thou wilt grant me free access

And answer what I pray'd.

3 Like thee among the Gods is none, O Lord; nor any works

Of all that other Gods have done

Like to thy glorious works.

Heb. He will set his steps to the way.

20

25

Heb. I am good, loving, a doer of good and holy things..

9 The nations all whom thou hast made Shall come, and all shall frame

To bow them low before thee, Lord,

And glorify thy name.

10 For great thou art, and wonders great

By thy strong hand are done;

Thou in thy everlasting seat

Remainest God alone.

11 Teach me, O Lord, thy way most right;

I in thy truth will bide;

To fear thy name my heart unite,

30

.35

So shall it never slide.

40

12 Thee will I praise, O Lord my God,

Thee honour and adore

With my whole heart, and blaze abroad

45

Thy name for evermore.

13 For great thy mercy is toward me,
And thou hast freed my soul,
Ev'n from the lowest Hell set free,
From deepest darkness foul.
14 O God, the proud against me rise,
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 most 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 handmaid's son.

17 Some sign of good to me afford,

And let my foes then see,

And be asham'd, because thou, Lord,

Dost help and comfort me.

55

60

PSALM LXXXVII,

AMONG the holy mountains high

Is his foundation fast; There seated in his sanctuary,

His temple there is plac'd.

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

Of Jacob's land, though there be store,
And all within his care.

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

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 said of Sion last;

This and this man was born in her;

High God shall fix her fast.

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 sing, and they who dance,
With sacred songs are there;

In thee fresh brooks and soft streams glance,
And all my fountains clear.

PSALM LXXXVIII

1 LORD God, that dost me save and keep,

All day to thee I cry;

And all night long before thee weep,
Before thee prostrate lie

5

10

15

20

25

2 Into thy presence let my pray'r
With sighs devout ascend;

And to my cries, that ceaseless are,

Thine ear with favour bend.

3 For, cloy'd with woes and troubles store,
Surcharg'd my soul doth lie;

My life, at death's uncheerful door,

Unto the grave draws nigh.

4 Reckon'd I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit;

I am a * man, but weak, alas!

And for that name unfit.

5 From life discharg'd and parted quite

Among the dead to sleep;

And like the slain 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 hath barr'd.

6 Thou in the lowest pit profound

Hast sent me all forlorn,

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

7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves,
Full sore doth press on me;

+ Thou break'st upon me all thy ways,
And all thy waves break me.

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.

9 Through sorrow, and affliction great,

Mine eye grows dim and dead;

Lord, all the day I thee intreat,
My hands to thee I spread.

*Heb. A man without manly strength.

The Heb. bears both.

M 2

5

10

15

20

25

30

35

10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead?

Shall the deceas'd arise,

And praise thee from their loathsome bed
With pale and hollow eyes?

11 Shall they thy loving kindness tell,
On whom the grave hath hold?
Or they who in perdition dwell,
Thy faithfulness unfold?

12 In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known?
Thy justice in the gloomy land

Of dark oblivion?

13 But I to thee, O Lord, do cry, Ere yet my life be spent ;

And up to thee my pray'r doth hie

Each morn, and thee prevent.

14 Why wilt thou, Lord, my soul forsake,
And hide thy face from me?

15 That am already bruis'd, and † shake
With terror sent from thee?
Bruis'd, and afflicted, and so low
As ready to expire;
While I thy terrors undergo,

Astonish'd with thine ire.

16 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow;

Thy threat'nings cut me through :

17 All day they round about me go,

Like waves they me pursue.

18 Lover and friend thou hast remov'd,
And sever'd from me far:

They fly me now whom I have lov'd,
And as in darkness are.

† Heb. Pra Concussione.