2. But in Nor yet in wrath, O God, mercy look upon me; For such griefs have over gone me, And crush'd with pain and moan. O infuse thy balm of pity, Bring me heal'd into thy city; For I am sore perplex'd; My sapless bones are vex'd. 3. Neither is my soul protected From her gripes, but worse affected. But, Lord, how long shall I, Unanswer'd, to thee cry? 4. Resume thy wonted favour, Send my soul a healthful savour; And for thy mercy, save Me, not for aught I have. 5. Dust unto his dust returned, Thinks not on thee: who enurned In the still greedy pit, Will give thee praises fit? H 6. Griefs assail me still, so easeless, That I faint with sorrows ceaseless; Each night my restless bed Swims with the tears I shed. My couch, whereon I whilom rested, 7. My sight to dimness grows, Half sunk in by my foes. 10. 8. But hence from me, ye wicked rabble, That joy in ill, and vainly babble; For God hath bent his ear, My turtle's voice to hear. 9. He heard, and kindly condescended To those poor suits my soul commended: So that my foes shall fall, And be coufounded all, And turned back with blame, And put to sudden shame. PSALM VI. By Richard Gipps. 1. Do not correct me in thy wrath, O God, Nor in thy fury let me feel thy rod. 2. For I am weak; Lord, pity me therefore! Lord, heal me, for my very bones are sore. 3. My soul is troubled, and that much dismay'd me; But, Lord, how long wilt thou forbear to aid me? 4. O turn again, and me for pity save; And my poor soul deliver from the grave. 5. Shall dead men's bones to future ages blaze thee? Or hath the grave's wide mouth a tongue to praise thee? 6. Each night with mourning I bedew my bed, And with salt tears my couch is watered. 7. My sight grows dim: mine eyes are sunk to see My foes rejoice, and work my misery. 8. But now ye workers of iniquity, The Lord hath heard my cry: depart from me. 9. He hears my mournful lamentation; And will receive my supplication. 10. He will confound my foes, and vex them all; Shame and confusion shall them befall. PSALM III. By Joseph Bryan. Domine quid? 1. LORD, thou seest to what a number They are grown, that me encumber; 2. Many think my soul forsaken, 3. But thou, Lord, art my defender, And the lifter of my head Far above the waves of dread. 4. When I felt myself enthralled, And thou didst hear, and cheer me still 5. Then I laid me down and rested, And rose up still unmolested; For thy wakeful care did keep 6. Though ten thousands were arrayed, Though they hem'd me round, and I 7. Up, O Lord, my God, and aid me, For thou smit'st those that dismay'd me On their fierce and grinding jaws, And hast broke their fangs and 8. For from thee is our salvation, All our help, and preservation; paws. |