As I shall always

Spend my mortal days,
Tasting joys divine

In this House of thine;

Heaven's true joys attending,
Free from change, or ending.

PSALM XXIII.

BY FRANCIS DAVISON.

To St. Bernard's, "Cur mundus militat," &c.

I.

THE Lord my pastor is; he tends me heedfully;
He still supplies my wants with all things needfully.

II.

In fields he pastures me, clad with amenity;
Through which a silver brook slideth with lenity.

III.

Through bushy labyrinths roaming audaciously,
Ready to lose myself, my Shepherd graciously,
For his name's glory's sake eftsoons reduced me
Unto his holy fold, whence sin seduced me.

IV.

Yea, through Death's vallies, a frightful obscurity,
If I should walk, I should walk in security,
If thou dost guard me; for in tribulation
Thy rod and sheep-hook are my consolation.

V.

Before mine enemies, enviously vicious,

Thou hast prepared my board, with meats delicious; With sweetly-smelling balms my head thou drowned

hast,

With sweetly-tasting wine my bowls thou crowned hast.

VI.

Thy love I need not doubt, and thy gratuity
Shall me accompany to perpetuity:

So in this House I shall, oh bless'd condition!
Of Heaven's endless joys here taste fruition.

PSALM XXX.

BY FRANCIS DAVISON.

I.

LORD, to thee, while I am living,

Will I sing hymns of thanksgiving;

For thou hast drawn me from a gulph of woes,
So that my foes

Do not deride me.

II.

When thine aid, Lord, I implored,

Then by thee was I restored;

My mournful heart with joy thou straight didst fill, So that none ill

Doth now betide me.

III.

My soul, grievously distressed,

And with death well nigh oppressed, From death's devouring jaws, Lord, thou didst save,

Oh,

all

And from the grave

My soul deliver.

IV.

ye that e'er had savour

Of God's everlasting favour,

Come, come and help me grateful praises sing

To the world's King,

And my life's giver.

V.

For his anger never lasteth,

And his favour never wasteth.

Though sadness be thy guest in sullen night,

The cheerful light

Will cheerful make thee.

VI.

Lull'd asleep with charming pleasures,
And base earthly fading treasures,

Rest, peaceful soul, said I, in happy state,

Ꮓ

No storms of fate

Shall ever shake thee.

VII.

For Jehovah's grace unbounded Hath my greatness surely founded; And hath my state as strongly fortified On every side,

But

As rocky mountains.

away

his face God turned

I was troubled then, and mourned.

VIII.

Then thus I pour'd forth prayers and doleful cries,

In

With weeping eyes,

Like wat❜ry fountains.

IX.

my blood there is no profit ;

If I die, what good comes of it?

Shall rotten bones, or senseless dust express

Thy thankfulness,

And works of wonder?

X.

Oh, then, hear me, prayers forth pouring, Drown'd in tears, from moist eyes show'ring; Have mercy, Lord, on me; my burthen ease, If thee it please,

a wake.-Marginal note to the copy in Harl. MSS. 6930.