English

Lord , save me from the violent,
From him who takes delight in ill,
Whose heart deceit and mischief fill,
On bloody war and outrage bent.

Their wounding tongues like serpents whet,
Poison of asps their lips enclose.
O save from fierce and wicked foes,
Who toils to overthrow me set!

The proud have hid their cords and snares,
Spread all their nets, their gins have laid.
To God, Thou art my God, I said,
O gently hear Thy suppliant's pray'rs.

My strong Preserver in the fight,

Part I.

Thou know'st me, O Thou only Wise,
Seest when I sit, and when I rise;
Canst my concealed thoughts disclose,
Observ'st my labours and repose;
Know'st all my counsels, all my deeds,
Each word which from my tongue proceeds.
Behind, before, by Thee enclos'd,
Thy Hand on ev'ry part impos'd.
Such knowledge my capacity
Transcends, so wonderful, so high!
O which way shall I take my flight,
Or where conceal me from Thy sight?
Ascend I heav'n, heav'n is Thy Throne;

My soul, applaud our glorious King,
Before the gods His praises sing:
His mercy an eternal spring.

For this, on consecrated ground
Will I adore; Thy truth resound;
Thy Word above all names renown'd.

Thou heard'st me when to Thee I cried,
When danger charg'd on ev'ry side,
By Thee confirm'd and fortified.

All those who awful sceptres bear,
When they of Thy performance hear,
Shall worship Thee with reverend fear.

They shall His truth and mercy praise,
Who all the world with justice sways,

The bounty of Jehovah praise:
This God of gods all sceptres sways.
Thanks to the Lord
Of lords afford;
And His amazing wonders blaze.
For from the King of kings
Eternal mercy springs.

Him praise Who fram'd the arched sky,
Those orbs that move so orderly.
Firm earth above,
The floods that move
Display'd, and rais'd the hills on high.
For from the King of kings
Eternal mercy springs.

Who sun and moon inform'd with light,
To guide the day, and rule the night:
The fixed stars,

Part I.

O YOU , who ephods wear and incense fling
On sacred flames, Jehovah's praises sing.
You who His temple guard, O celebrate
His glorious Name, His noble acts relate.
How great a joy with such sincere delight
To crown the day and entertain the night!
For Israel is His choice; and Jacob's race
His treasure, and the object of His grace.
In pow'r how infinite! how much before
Those mortal gods whom frantic men adore!
All on His will depend; all homage owe,

You , who the Lord adore,
And at His altar wait,
Who keep your watch before
The threshold of His gate,
His praises sing
By silent night,
Till cheerful light
In th' orient spring.

Your hands devoutly raise
To His divine recess;
The world's Creator praise,
And thus the people bless;
The God of love,
From Sion's tow'rs,
To you and yours
Propitious prove.

O BLEST estate! blest from above!
When brethren join in mutual love.
'Tis like the precious odours shed
On consecrated Aaron's head,
Which trickled from his beard and breast,
Down to the borders of his vest.
'Tis like the pearls of dew that drop
On Hermon's ever-fragrant top;
Or which the smiling heav'ns distill
On happy Sion's sacred hill,
For God hath there His favours plac'd,
And joy, which shall for ever last.

Thou , Lord, my Witness art,
I am not proud of heart,
Nor look with lofty eyes,
None envy, nor despise,
Nor to vain pomp apply
My thoughts, nor soar too high;
But in behaviour mild,
And, as a tender child.
Wean'd from his mother's breast,
On Thee alone I rest.
O Israel, adore
The Lord for evermore:
Be He the only scope
Of thy unfainting hope.

Out of the horrors of the deep,
Where fear and sorrow never sleep,
To Thee my cries
In sighs arise:
Lord, from despair Thy servant keep:
O lend a gracious ear,
And my petitions hear.

For if Thou should'st our sins observe,
And punish us as we deserve,
Not one of all
But then must fall,
Since all from their obedience swerve:
Yet art not Thou severe,
That we Thy Name might fear.

Thy mercies our misdeeds transcend:
My hopes upon Thy truth depend:
Disconsolate
On Thee I wait;

Oft from my early youth have they
Afflicted me, may Israel say,
Oft from my early youth assail'd;
As oft have their endeavours fail'd.
My back with long deep furrows wound,
As plough-shares ear the patient ground.
The Ever-just hath broke their bands,
And sav'd me from their cruel hands.
Let Sion's foes with infamy
Be clothed, and untimely die:
Be they like corn on houses' tops,
Which reaper's sickle never crops,
Nor binder in his bosom bears,
But withers still before it ears.
No traveller their labours bless,