3 The Lord in heaven has fix'd his throne;
His eye surveys the world below:
To him all mortal things are known;
His eyelids search our spirits through.

4 If he afflicts his saints so far,

To prove their love, and try their grace,
What may the bold transgressors fear?
His very soul abhors their ways.

5 On impious wretches he shall rain
Tempests of brimstone, fire and death,
Such as he kindled on the plain

Of Sodom with his angry breath.

6 The righteous Lord loves righteous souls
Whose thoughts and actions are sincere;
And with a gracious eye beholds
The men that his own image bear.

1

PSALM 12. Long Metre.

The Saint's Safety and Hope in evil Times; or, Sins of the Tongue complained of; viz. Blasphemy, Falsehood, &c.

LORD, if thou dost not soon appear,
Virtue and truth will fly away;

A faithful man amongst us here

Will scarce be found, if thou delay.

2 The whole discourse, when neighbours meet,
Is fill'd with trifles loose and vain;
Their lips are flattery and deceit,
And their proud language is profanc.

3 But lips that with deceit abound
Shall not maintain their triumph long;
The God of vengeance will confound
The flattering and blaspheming tongue.

4. Yet shall our words be free,' they cry,
"Our tongue shall be controll'd by none:
Where is the lord will ask us why?

6

Or say, our lips are not our own?'

5 The Lord who sees the poor opprest,
And hears the oppressor's haughty strain,
Will rise to give his children rest;
Nor shall they trust his word in vain.

6 Thy word, O Lord, though often try'd,
Void of deceit shall still appear;
Not silver seven times purify'd

From dross and mixture shines so clear.

7 Thy grace shall in the darkest hour
Defend the holy soul from harm;
Though when the vilest men have power
On every side will sinners swarm.

PSALM 12.

Common Metre.

Complaint of a general Corruption of Manners; or, the Promise. and Sign of Christ's coming to Judgment,

1 HELP, Lord, for men of virtue fail,

Religion loses ground;

The sons of violence prevail,
And treacheries abound.

2 Their oaths and promises they break,
Yet act the flatterer's part;
With fair deceitful lips they speak,
And with a double heart.

3 If we reprove some hateful lie,
How is their fury stirr'd!

Are not our lips our own,' they cry,

And who shall be our Lord?'

4 Scoffers appear on every side,
Where a vile race of men

Is rais'd to seats of power and pride,
And bears the sword in vain,

PAUSE.

5 Lord, when iniquities abound,
And blasphemy grows bold,
When faith is hardly to be found,
And love is waxing cold.

6 Is not thy chariot hastening on?
Hast thou not given this sign?
May we not trust and live upon
A promise so divine?

7

'Yes,' saith the Lord,' now will I rise,

And make oppressors flee;

'I shall appear to their surprise,

And set my servants free.'

8 Thy word, like silver seven times tried,

Through ages shall endure;

The men that in thy truth confide,
Shall find the promise sure.

1

PSALM 13. Long Metre.

Pleading with God under Desertion; or, Hope in Darkness.

How

long, O Lord, shall I complain,
Like one that seeks his God in vain?
Canst thou thy face for ever hide?
And I still pray, and be denied?

2 Shall I for ever be forgot,

As one whom thou regardest not?
Still shall my soul thine absence mourn?
And still despair of thy return?

3 How long shall my poor troubled breast Be with these anxious thoughts opprest? And Satan my malicious foe,

Rejoice to see me sunk so low?

4 Hear, Lord, and grant me quick relief,
Before my death conclude my grief;
If thou withhold thy heavenly light,
I sleep in everlasting night.

5 How will the powers of darkness boast,
If but one praying soul be lost!
But I have trusted in thy grace,
And shall again behold thy face.

6 Whate'er my fears or foes suggest,
Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest:
My heart shall feel thy love, and raise
My cheerful voice to songs of praise.

PSALM 13. Common Metre.

Complaint under Temptations of the Devil.

How long wilt thou conceal thy face?

My God, how long delay?
When shall I feel those heavenly rays
That chase my fears away?

2 How long shall my poor labouring soul Wrestle and toil in vain?

Thy word can all my foes control,
And ease my raging pain.

3 See how the prince of darkness tries
All his malicious arts,

He spreads a mist around my eyes,
And throws his fiery darts.

4 Be thou my sun, and thou my shield,
My soul in safety keep;

Make haste, before mine eyes are seal'd
In death's eternal sleep.

5 How would the tempter boast aloud
If I become his prey!

Behold the sons of hell grow proud
At thy so long delay.

6 But they shall fly at thy rebuke,
And Satan hide his head;

He knows the terrors of thy look,

And hears thy voice with dread.