On God, in whom salvation

And boundless mercy dwell.

VIII.

The leprous spots that stain thee,

He then will purify;

Sin's fetters that enchain thee,

He gently will untie.

PSALM CXXXI.

BY FRANCIS DAVISON.

I.

OH Lord, my mind, puff'd up with pride,
No vast designs hath e'er affected;
Mine eyes have no great man envied,

Nor

poor men scornfully neglected. My wary actions ne'er have stray'd Beyond the bounds of my condition; I have no plots, nor projects laid,

That tend t' aspiring, or ambition.

II.

But as an infant late divorc'd
By wormwood from his milky diet,
Looks on the teat, but yet is forc'd
By mother's awe, to keep in quiet :
Such pow'r thine awe on me hath got,
It hath my childish thoughts restrained;
I greatness view, but wish it not,

And from ambition's breast am weaned.

III.

Oh, Israel, tread thy humble path,
God's pleasure meekly shall attend you;
So shall you find, as me he hath,
In innocence he 'll still defend you.

PSALM CXXXII.

BY FRANCIS DAVISON.

I.

WHAT is so sweet, so amiable,
As brothers' love unfeign'd?

Whose hearts in bands inviolable
Of concord are enchain'd?

II.

It's like unto that precious ointment,
Whose odour far did spread,

Us'd to embalm, by God's appointment,
The high priest, Aaron's head:

Whence, in a fragrant shower descending,
It dew'd his beard and face,

Then to his robes, his sweetness lending, About his skirts did trace.

III.

Or to the dew wherewith grey morning
Empearls Mount Hermon's head,

His greens with peckled flowers adorning,
Artlessly diap'red,

From Hermon to Mount Sion pouring

His fertile rivulets,

And all engreening and enflowering

Those pleasant mountainets.

IV.

Where this love-knot remains unbroken,

God, heaps of bliss doth send;

Yea, heavenly bliss it doth betoken,

Exempt from change, or end.

PSALM CXXXVII.

BY FRANCIS DAVISON.

I.

By Euphrates' flowery side

We did bide,

From dear Judah far absented,

Tearing th' air with mournful cries,

And our eyes

With their streams the stream augmented: When poor Sion's doleful state,

Desolate,

Sacked, burned, and enthralled,

And thy temple spoil'd, which we

Ne'er should see,

To our mirthless minds we called.