THE PSALMS.
22 Who practise enmity to thee
shall utmost hatred have from me; as if they were my foes profest.
Such men I utterly detest,
23 Search, try, O God, my thoughts and heart, if mischief lurks in any part; 24 Correct me where I go astray, and guide me in thy perfect way. CXL.
PSALM
PRESERVE me, Lord, from crafty foes of treacherous intent;
2 And from the sons
on open mischief
3 Their sland'ring tongue the serpent's sting in sharpness does exceed; Between their lips the gall of asps
and adders' venom breed.
4 Preserve me, Lord, from wicked hands, A prey to sons of violence,
5 The proud for me have laid their snare, With traps and gins, where'er I move,
6 But thus environ'd with distress, Lord, hear my supplicating voice, 70 Lord, the God, whose saving strength And cover'd my advent'rous head
8 Permit not their unjust designs Lest they, encourag'd by success, 9 Let first their chiefs the sad effects The blast of their envenom'd breath
10 Let them who kindled first the flame The pit they digg'd for me be made 11 Tho' slander's breath may raise a storm, Their rage does but the torrent swell
12 God will assert the poor man's cause, The just shall celebrate his praise,
PSALM
thee, O Lord, my cries ascend,
2 Instead of off'rings, let my prayer My lifted hands supply the place
3 From hasty language curb my tongue, Still keep the portal of my lips,
4 From wicked men's designs and deeds Nor let me in the booty share
5 Let upright men reprove my faults, Like balm that heals a wounded head, And, in return, my fervent pray'r When they are tempted and reduc'd, 6 When sculking in En- gedi's rock If one reproachful word I spoke, 7 Yet us they persecute to death; As thick as from the hewer's axe
8 But, Lord, to thee I still direct O leave not destitute my soul,
9 Do thou preserve me from the snares Let them in their own nets be caught,
PSALM
TO God, with mournful voice,
2 Made him the umpire of my cause,
3 Thou didst my steps direct, for where I thought to walk secure, 4 I look'd, but found no friend All refuge fail'd, no man vouchsaf'd 5 To God at last I pray'd; My portion in the land of life,
6 Reduc'd to greatest straits, O save me from oppressing foes, 7. That I may praise thy Name, Whilst of thy kind regard to me
nor leave my soul forlorn, who have my ruin sworn. and spread their wily net; I find my steps beset.
thou art my God, I said; that calls to thee for aid. kind succour did convey, in battle's doubtful day:
to answer their desire; to bolder crimes aspire. of their injustice meurn: upon themselves return. its sacrifice become; their own untimely tomb. it quickly will decay;
that bears themselves away. and speedy succour give; and in his presence live.
CXLI.
O haste to my relief; the accents of my grief. like morning incense rise; of ev'ning sacrifice.
and let a constant guard with wary silence barr'd. my heart and hands restrain; of their unrighteous gain. and I shall think them kind; I their reproof shall find: I shall for them address, like me, to sore distress. I to their chiefs appeal, when I had pow'r to kill. cur scatter'd ruins lie the sever'd splinters fly. my supplicating eyes; whose trust on thee relies. that wicked hands have laid: while my escape is made.
CXLII.
in deep distress I pray'd; my wrongs before him laid. when my griev'd soul despair'd; they had their traps prepar'd.
to own me in distress: his pity or redress. thou, Lord, my refuge art, till life itself depart.
to thee I make my moan: for me too pow'rful grown! my soul from prison bring; assembled saints shall sing. D 2