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4 How shall we tune our voice to sing? Shall hymns of joy to God our King 5 0 Salem, our once happy seat, Let then my trembling hand forget

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6 If I to mention thee forbear, Or if I sing one cheerful air,

7 Remember, Lord, how Edom's race, Cried out," Her stately walls deface,

8 Proud Babel's daughter, doom'd to be Bless'd is the man who shall to thee

9 Thrice blest, who with just rage possest, Shall snatch thy infants from the breast, PSALM

2 I'll worship at thy sacred seat;

The praises of thy truth repeat,

the speaking strings with art to move! eternal silence seize my tongue; till thy deliv'rance is my song. in thy own city's fatal day,

and with the ground quite level lay." of grief and woe the wretched prey; the wrongs thou lay'st on us repay. and deaf to all the parents' moans, and dash their heads against the stones. CXXXVIII.

WITH my whole heart, my God and King, thy praise I will proclaim;

I'll

holy and, with thy love inspir'd, o'er all thy works admir'd." when I to thee did cry; didst inward strength supply. thy Name with praise pursue, that all thy works are true. with cheerful songs shall bless; thy awful pow'r confess. does thence the poor respect; beholds with just neglect. he shall my foes disarm; and keep me safe from harm. shall fix my happy state; shall his own work complete.

3 Thou graciously inclin'dst thine ear, And, when my soul was press'd with fear, 4 Therefore shall ev'ry earthly prince Whom these admir'd events convince

5 They all thy wondrous ways, O Lord, And all thy glorious acts record,

6 For God, although enthron'd on high, The proud far off his scornful eye

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or touch our harps with skilful hands? be sung by slaves in foreign lands? when I of thee forgetful prove,

7 Though I with troubles am oppress'd, Relieve my soul when most distress'd, 8 The Lord, whose mercies ever last, And, mindful of his favours past,

PSALM

CXXXIX.

THOU, Lord, by strictest search hast known my rising up and lying down,

2 My secret thoughts are known to thee, known long before conceiv'd by me. 3 Thine eye my bed and path surveys, my public haunts and private ways; 4 Thou know'st what' tis my lips would vent, my yet unutter'd words' intent.

5 Surrounded by thy pow'r I stand, 60 skill, for human reach too high! 70 could I so perfidious be, Where, Lord, could I thy influence shun?

8 If up to heav'n I take my flight, Or dive to hell's infernal plains, 9 If I the morning's wings could gain, 10 Thy swifter hand would first arrive, 11 Or, should I try to shun thy sight One glance from thee, one piercing ray, 12 The veil of night is no disguise, Thro' midnight shades thou find'st thy way, 13 Thou know'st the texture of my heart, Each single thread in nature's loom 14 I'll praise thee, from whose hands I came, The wonders thou in me hast shown,

' tis there thou dwell'st enthron'd in light; ' tis there Almighty vengeance reigns. and fly beyond the western main, and there arrest thy fugitive. beneath the sable wings of night; would kindle darkness into day. no screen from thy all- searching eyes; as in the blazing noon of day. my reins, and ev'ry vital part; by thee was cover'd in the womb. a work of such a curious frame; my soul with grateful joy must own. while yet a lifeless mass it lay; ere from its dark inclosure brought. its parts were register'd by thee; form'd by the model of thy book. that, since this maze of life I trod, the pow'r of numbers to recount. the sands upon the ocean's shore; I find the account but new begun. depart from me, ye men of blood, and take th' Almighty's Name in vain. who thee with enmity pursue? when reprobates thy laws transgress?

on ev'ry side I find thy hand: too dazzling bright for mortal eye! to think of once deserting thee, or whither from thy presence run?

15 Thine eyes my substance did survey, In secret how exactly wrought, 16 Thou didst the shapeless embryo see, Thou saw'st the daily growth they took, 17 Let me acknowledge too, O God, Thy thoughts of love to me surmount 18 Far sooner could I reckon o'er Each morn, revising what I've done, 19 The wicked thou shalt slay, O God: 20 Whose tongues heav'n's majesty profane, 21 Lord, hate not I their impious crew, And does not grief my heart oppress,