English

Part I.

V EX not thyself at the impiety
Of wicked men, nor their frail height envy;
For they shall soon be mow'd like summer's hay,
And as the verdure of the herb decay,
Trust thou in God; do good, and long in peace
Possess the land, refresh'd by her increase.
Be He thy sole delight, He shall inspire
Thy raised thoughts, and grant thy heart's desire.
Rely, and to His care thy ways commend,
Who will produce them to a happy end.
He shall thy justice like the light display,

When I the bold transgressor see,
My thoughts thus whisper unto me:
He never fear'd the Lord;
He smooths himself in his own eyes,
Till his secure impieties
Become of all abhorr'd.

Their words are vain and full of guile,
They wisdom from their hearts exile,
Forsaken virtue hate;
Who mischief on their beds contrive,
Through byeways to bad ends arrive,
And vices propagate.

Thy mercy, Lord, is thron'd on high,
And Thy approv'd fidelity
The lofty sky transcends;
Thy justice like a mountain steep,

Part I.

L ORD , plead my cause against my foes,
With such as fight against me, fight;
Arise, Thy ample shield oppose,
And with Thy sword defend my right.

Address Thy spear, those in their way
Encounter, who my soul invade;
To her O let Thy Spirit say,
I am Thy God and saving aid.

Let those who my disgrace contrive,
Hang down their heads, for flight design'd;

The Lord I will for ever bless,
My tongue His praises shall profess,
In Him my soul shall boast;
The meek shall hear the same and joy;
His name with me, O magnify;
Extol the Lord of Hosts.

My pray'rs ascending pierc'd His ear,
Who snatch'd me from those storms of fear.
The meek who God expect,
Who flow to Him like living brooks,
Shame never shall distain their looks,
Nor with foul guilt infect.

This wretch in his adversity
(Then men shall say) to God did cry,
Whose mercy him secur'd.

To God, you just, your voices raise,
It you beseems to sing His praise.
O celebrate the King of kings
On instruments strung with ten strings;
To harp and lute new ditties sing;
Sing loud with skilful fingering.
His words are crown'd by their event,
And all His works are permanent.
Justice and judgment He affects,
His bounty upon all reflects,
His word the arched heav'ns did frame,
His breath the stars' eternal flame;
He the collected seas confines,
And folds the deep in magazines.

Bless'd, O thrice bless'd, is he,
Whose sins remitted be:
And whose impieties
God covers from His eyes.
To whom his sins are not
Imputed, as forgot;
His soul with guile unstain'd.
While silent I remain'd,
My bones consum'd away,
I roared all the day,
For on me day and night
Thy hand did heavy light.
My moisture dried throughout,
Like to a summer's drought.
I then my sins confess'd,
How far I had transgress'd;
When all I had reveal'd,
Thy Hand my pardon seal'd.
For this who godly are

Part I.

Who trusts in Thee, O let not shame deject!
Thou ever just, my chased soul secure;
Lord, lend a willing ear, with speed protect;
Be Thou my rock, with Thy strong arm immure.

My rock, my fortress, for Thy honour aid,
And my engaged feet from danger guide;
Pull from their subtle snares in secret laid,
O Thou my only strength so often tried.

To Thy safe hands my spirit I commend,

Part I.

My verse shall in Thy praises flow,
Lord, Thou hast rais'd my head on high;
Nor suffer'd the proud enemy
To triumph in my overthrow.

I cried aloud: Thy arm did save,
Thou drew'st me from the shades of death,
Repealing my exiled breath,
When almost swallow'd by the grave.

You saints of his, O sing His praise,
Present your vows unto the Lord;

You that are of princely birth,
Praise the Lord of heav'n and earth;
Glory give, His pow'r proclaim,
Magnify and praise His name.
Worship; in the beauty bless,
Beauty of His holiness.
From a dark and show'ring cloud,
On the floods that roar aloud,
Hark! His voice with terror breaks:
God, our God in thunder speaks.
Pow'rful is His voice on high,
Full of pow'r and majesty:
Lofty cedars overthrown,
Cedars of steep Lebanon,
Calf-like skipping on the ground;
Lebanon and Sirion bound,

My God, my Rock, regard my cry,
Lest I unheard, like those that die,
In shades of dark oblivion lie.

To my ascending grief give ear,
When I my hands devoutly rear
Before Thy mercy-seat with fear.

With wicked men mix not my fate,
Nor drag me with the reprobate,
Who speak of peace, but foster hate.

Such as their works, their dire intent,
And practices to circumvent;
Such be their dreadful punishment.

Since they will not Thy choice renown,
But hate whom Thou intend'st to crown;