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Whatever thing is good,

. 50 Our land shall forth in plenty throw

Her fruits to be our food.
13 Before him Righteousness shall go

His royal harbinger,
Then * will he come, and not be slow,
His footsteps cannot err. .

PSA L. LXXXVI.
i THY gracious ear, O Lord, incline,

T O hear me I thee pray, For I am poor, and almost pine

With need, and sad decay. 2 Preserve my soul, for + I have trod

Thy ways, and love the just, Save thou thy servant, O my God,

Who still in thee doth trust.
3 Pity me, Lord, for daily thee

I call; 4. O make rejoice
Thy servant's soul; for Lord to thee

I lift my soul and voice.
5 For thou art good, thou Lord art prone

To pardon, thou to all
Art full of mercy, thou alone

15 To them that on thee call. 6 Unto my supplication, Lord,

Give * Heb. He will set his steps to the way. + Heb. I am good, loving, a doer of good and holy things.

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Give ear, and to the cry Of my incessant pray’rs afford

Thy hearing graciously.
7 I in the day of my distress

Will call on thee for aid;
For thou wilt grant me free access,

And answer what I prayd.
8 Like thee among the Gods is none,

O Lord, nor any works
Of all that other Gods have done

Like to thy glorious works.
9 The nations all whom thou hast made

Shall come, and all fall frame
To bow them low before thee, Lord,

And glorify thy name.
10 For great thou art, and wonders great

By thy strong hand are done, Thou in thy everlasting seat

Remainest God alone.
11 Teach me, O Lord, thy way most right,

I in thy truth will bide,
To fear thy name my heart unite,

So shall it never side.
12 Thee will I praise, O Lord my God,

Thee honor and adore
With my whole heart, and blaze abroad

Thy name for evermore.
13 For great thy mercy is tow’rd me,

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And thou hast freed my soul, Ev’n from the lowest Hell set free,

From deepest darkness foul.
14 O God the proud against me rise,

And violent men are met
To seek my life, and in their eyes

No fear of thee have set.
15 But thou, Lord, art the God most mild,
. Readiest thy grace to shew,
Slow to be angry, and art stild

Most merciful, most true.
16 O turn to me thy face at length,

And me have mercy on,
Unto thy servant give thy strength,

And save thy handmaid's son.
17 Some sign of good to me afford,

And let my foes then see,
And be asham’d, because thou Lord
Dost help and comfort me.

P S A L. LXXXVII.
1 AMONG the holy mountains high

01 Is his foundation faft, There seated is his sanctuary,

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

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

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5

And And all within his care, 3 City of God, most glorious things Of thee abroad are spoke;

10 4 I mention Egypt, where proud king's

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

Philistia full of scorn,
And Tyre with Ethiops 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 in a scroll

That ne'er shall be out-worn, When he the nations doth inroll,

That this man there was born. 7 Both they who fing, and they who dance, · 25

With sacred songs are there,
In thee fresh brooks, and soft streams glance,
And all my fountains clear.

PSA L. LXXXVIII.
11 ORD God that doft me save and keep,

L All day to thee I cry; . And all night long before thee weep,

Before thee prostrate lie. 2 Into thy presence let my pray'r

With

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With fighs devout ascend,
And to my cries, that ceaseless are,

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

Surcharg'd my soul doth lie, My life at death's unchear ful 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.

| Heb. A man without manly strength. 5 From life discharg'd 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 barrd.
6 Thou in the lowest pit profound

25 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; Ş Thou break’st upon me all thy waves, ☆ And all thy waves break me. ŞThe Heb. bears both.

Thou

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