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PSA L. IV. Aug. 10, 1653.

NSWER me when I call,

God of my righteousness,

In ftraits and in diftrefs

Thou didst me difinthrall

And fet at large; now spare,

Now pity me, and hear my earneft prayer.

Great-ones, how long will ye

My glory have in scorn,

How long be thus forborn

Still to love vanity;

To love, to feek, to prize

Things falfe and vain, and nothing else but lies?

Yet know the Lord hath chofe,

Chofe to himself apart,

The good and meek of heart

(For whom to choose he knows):

Jehovah from on high

Will hear my voice what time to him I cry.

Be aw'd, and do not fin,

Speak to your hearts alone,

Upon your beds, each one,

And be at peace within.

Offer the offerings just

On us lift up the light,

Lift up the favor of thy count'nance bright.

Into my heart more joy

And gladness thou haft put,

Than when a year of glut

Their ftores doth over-cloy,

And from their plenteous grounds

With vast increase their corn and wine abounds.

In peace at once will I

Both lay me down and sleep,

For thou alone doft keep

Me fafe where'er I lie;

As in a rocky cell

Thou, Lord, alone in fafety mak'st me dwell.

PSAL. V. Aug. 12, 1653.

JEHOVAH, to my words give ear,

My meditation weigh,

The voice of my complaining hear

My King and God; for unto thee I pray.

Jehovah, thou my early voice

Shalt in the morning hear,

I' th' morning I to thee with choice

Will rank my prayers, and watch till thou appear.

For thou art not a God that takes

In wickedness delight,

Evil with thee no biding makes,

Fools or mad men ftand not within thy fight.

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35

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All

All workers of iniquity

Thou hat'ft; and them unbleft

Thou wilt destroy that speak a ly;

The bloody' and guileful man God doth detest.

But I will in thy mercies dear,

Thy numerous mercies, go

Into thy houfe; I in thy fear

Will tow'rds thy holy temple worship low.

Lord, lead me in thy righteousness,

Lead me because of thofe

That do obferve if I tranfgrefs:

Set thy ways right before, where my step goes;
For in his faltring mouth unstable

No word is firm or footh;

Their inside, troubles miserable;

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An open grave their throat, their tongue they smooth.

God, find them guilty; let them fall

By their own counfels quell'd;

Push them in their rebellions all

Still on; for against thee they have rebell’d.
Then all who truft in thee shall bring

Their joy, while thou from blame

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Defend'st them, they shall ever fing

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And shall triumph in thee, who love thy name.

For thou, Jehovah, wilt be found

To bless the juft man still,

As with a fhield thou wilt furround

Him with thy lafting favor and good-will.

PSAL. VI.

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PSA L. VI. Aug. 13, 1653.

ORD, in thine anger do not reprehend me,
Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;

Pity me, Lord, for I am much deject,

And very weak and faint; heal and amend me:
For all my bones, that ev'n with anguish ake,
Are troubled, yea my foul is troubled fore,
And thou, O Lord, how long? turn, Lord, restore
My foul, O fave me for thy goodness' sake:
For in death no remembrance is of thee;

Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise?
Wearied I am with fighing out my days,
Nightly my couch I make a kind of sea;
My bed I water with my tears; mine eye
Through grief confumes, is waxen old and dark

I' th' midst of all mine enemies that mark.

Depart all ye that work iniquity,

Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping

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The Lord hath heard, the Lord hath heard my

prayer,

My fupplication with acceptance fair

The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping.
Mine enemies fhall all be blank and dash'd

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With much confufion; then grown red with fhame, They shall return in hafte the way they came, And in a moment shall be quite abash'd.

PSA L. VII.

PSA L. VII. Aug. 14, 1653.

Upon the words of Cush the Benjamite against him.

ORD, my God, to thee I fly,

Thy protection while I cry,
Left as a lion (and no wonder)

He hafte to tear my foul afunder,
Tearing and no rescue nigh.

Lord, my God, if I have thought
Or done this, if wickedness
Be in my hands, if I have wrought
Ill to him that meant me peace,
Or to him have render'd lefs,
And not free'd my foe for nought;

Let th' enemy pursue my foul
And overtake it, let him tread
My life down to the earth, and roll
In the dust my glory dead,
In the duft, and there out-spread
Lodge it with dishonor foul.

Rife, Jehovah, in thine ire,
Roufe thyself amidst the rage
Of my foes that urge like fire;
And wake for me, their fury' afswage;
Judgment here thou didst engage
And command, which I defire.