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PSALM LXXXVII.

1 Among the holy mountains high

Is his foundation fast; There seated is his sanctuary;

His temple there is placed.
2 Sion's fair gates the Lord loves more

Than all the dwellings fair
Of Jacob's land, though there be store,

And all within his care.
3 City of God, most glorious things

Of thee abroad are spoke;
4 I mention Egypt, where proud kings

Did our forefathers yoke.
I mention Babel to my friends,

Philistia full of scorn;
And Tyre, with Ethiop's utmost ends :

Lo, this man there was born :
5 But twice that praise shall in our ear

Be said of Sion last;
This and this man was born in her;

High God shall fix her fast.
6 The Lord shall write it in a scroll

That ne'er shall be outworn, When he the nations doth inroll;

That this man there was born. 7 Both they who sing, and they who dance,

With sacred songs, are there; In thee fresh brooks and soft streams glance,

And all my fountains clear.

PSALM LXXXVII,

1 LORD God, that dost me save and keep, All day to thee I cry;

I
And all night long before thee weep,

Before thee prostrate lie.
2 Into thy presence let my prayer,

With sighs devout ascend;
And to my cries that ceaseless are,

Thine ear with favour bend. 3 For, cloy'd with woes and trouble store,

Surcharged my soul doth lie;
My life, at Death's uncheerful door,

Unto the grave draws nigh.
4 Reckon'd I am with them that pass

Down to the dismal pit:
I am a man; but weak, alas!

And for that name unfit. 5 From life discharged, and parted quite

Among the dead to sleep;
And like the slain in bloody fight,

That in the grave lie deep.
Whom thou rememberest no more,

Dost never more regard;
Them, from thy hand deliver'd o'er,

Death's hideous house hath barr'd. 6 Thou in the lowest pit profound

Hast set me all forlorn,
Where thickest darkness hovers round,

In horrid deeps to mourn.

7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves,

Full sore doth press on me;
Thou break’st upon me all thy waves,

And all thy waves break me. 8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange,

And makest me odious,
Me to them odious, for they change,

And I here pent up thus.
9 Through sorrow and affliction great,

Mine eyes grow dim and dead;
Lord, all the day I thee entreat,

My hands to thee I spread.
10 Wilt thou do wonders on the dead?

Shall the deceased arise,
And praise thee from their loathsome bed

With pale and hollow eyes ?
11 Shall they thy loving kindness tell,

On whom the grave hath hold?
Or they, who in perdition dwell,

Thy faithfulness unfold?
12 In darkness can thy mighty hand

Or wondrous acts be known?
Thy justice in the gloomy land

Of dark oblivion?
13 But I to thee, O Lord, do cry,

Ere yet my life be spent;
And up to thee my prayer doth hie,
Each
morn,

and thee prevent. 14 Why wilt thou, Lord, my soul forsake,

And hide thy face from me,

15 That am already bruised, and shake

With terror sent from thee?
Bruised, and afflicted, and so low

As ready to expire;
While I thy terrors undergo,

Astonished with thine ire.
16 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow;

Thy threatenings cut me through; 17 All day they round about me go ;

Like waves they me pursue.
18 Lover and friend thou hast remov’d,

And sever'd from me far:
They fly me now whom I have loved,

And as in darkness are.

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A PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXIV.

This and the following Psalm were done by the author at

fifteen years old. When the blest seed of Terah's faithful son, After long toil, their liberty had won; And pass'd from Pharian fields to Canaan land, Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand; Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown, His praise and glory were in Israel known. That saw the troubled sea, and shivering fied, And sought to hide his froth-becurled head Low in the earth; Jordan's clear streams recoil, As a faint host that hath received the foil. The high huge-bellied mountains skip, like rams Amongst their ewes; the little bills, like lambs.

Why fled the ocean? And why skipt the moun

tains? Why turned Jordan toward his crystal fountains ? Shake, Earth; and at the presence be aghast Of Him that ever was, and aye shall last; That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush, And make soft rills from fiery flint-stones gush!

PSALM CXXXVI.

LET us, with a gladsome mind,
Praise the Lord, for he is kind;

For his mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.
Let us blaze his name abroad,
For of gods he is the God:

For his, &c.

0, let us his praises tell,
Who doth the wrathful tyrants quell:

For his, &c.
Who, with his miracles, doth make
Amazed heaven and earth to shake:

For his, &c.
Who, by his wisdom, did create
The painted heavens so full of state:

For his, &c.

Who did the solid earth ordain
To rise above the watery plain :

For his, &c.

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