2. But in

Nor yet in wrath, O God,
Betake thee to thy rod.

mercy look upon me;

For such griefs have over gone me,
That all my strength is gone,

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,
Mine eyes bedews with sighs molested.

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;
And what mighty ones they be,
That rise up 'gainst poor weak me.

2. Many think my soul forsaken,
Seeing me so sorrow shaken;
And, insulting, say, In thee
There is no help, my God, for me.

3. But thou, Lord, art my defender,
My sole hope, and safety-sender;

And the lifter of my head

Far above the waves of dread.

4. When I felt myself enthralled,
Unto thee, O Lord, I called;

And thou didst hear, and cheer me still
Out of thy most holy hill.

5. Then I laid me down and rested,

And rose up still unmolested;

For thy wakeful care did keep
Me most safe, while I did sleep.

6. Though ten thousands were arrayed,
Yet I would not be dismayed,

Though they hem'd me round, and I
Saw no means to fight or fly.

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.