II.

'Tis he, whofe ev'ry thought and deed
By rules of virtue moves;

Whofe gen'rous tongue difdains to speak
The thing his heart difproves.

III.

Who never did a flander forge,
His neighbour's fame to wound;
Nor hearken to a falfe report,
By malice whisper'd round.

IV.

Who vice, in all its pomp and pow'r,
Can treat with just neglect;
And piety, tho' cloath'd in rags,
Religiously respect.

V.

Who to his plighted vows and trust
Has ever firmly ftood;
And tho' he promise to his lofs,
He makes his promife good.

VI.

Whofe foul in finful ways difdains

His treasure to employ; Whom no rewards can ever bribe

The guiltless to destroy.

VII.

The man, who by this steady course

Has happiness infur❜d :

When earth's foundation shakes, fhall ftand,

By providence fecur'd.

But where the Gospel comes,

It fpreads diviner light;

It calls dead finners from their tombs,

And gives the blind their fight.

1

PSALM CXXVI.

The Excellency of the Scriptures.
As the 113 PSALM.

I.

Love the volumes of thy word; What light and joy thofe leaves afford To fouls benighted and diftreft! Thy precepts guide my doubtful way, Thy fear forbids my feet to ftray, Thy promise leads my heart to reft.

II.

From the difcov'ries of thy la w
The perfect rules of life I draw,
These are my ftudy and delight:
Not honey fo invites the taste,
Nor gold that hath the furnace past,
Appears fo pleafing to the fight.

III.

Thy threat'nings wake my flumb'ring eyes, And warn me where my danger lies;

But 'tis thy bleffed Gofpel, LORD, That makes my guilty confcience clean, Converts my foul, fubdues my fin, And gives a free, but large reward.

IV.

Who knows the errors of his thoughts?
My GOD, forgive my fecret faults,

And from prefumptuous fins reftrain: Accept my poor attempts of praise, That I have read thy book of grace,

And book of nature, not in vain.

PSALM CXXVII.

The Pleasure of Public Worship.

Long Metre.

I.

OW pleafant, how divinely fair,

HOW

O LORD of hofts, thy dwellings are!

With long defire my spirit faints

To meet the affemblies of thy faints.

II.

My flesh would rest in thine abode,
My panting heart cries out for GOD:
My GOD! my King! why fhould I be
So far from all my joys and thee?

III.

Bleft are the faints who fit on high
Around thy throne of majesty:
Thy brightest glories fhine above,
And all their work is praise and love.

IV.

Bleft are the fouls who find a place
Within the temple of thy grace;
There they behold thy gentler rays,
And feek thy face, and learn thy praife.

V.

Bleft are the men whofe hearts are set
To find the way to Zion's gate:

GOD is their strength; and thro' the road
They lean upon their helper, GOD.

T

VI.

Chearful they walk with growing strength,
"Till all fhall meet in heav'n at length;
"Till all before thy face appear,
And join in nobler worship there.

Nothing but truth before his throne,
With honour can appear:
The formal hypocrites are known,
Thro' the disguise they wear.

III.

Their lifted eyes falute the fkies,
Their bending knees the ground:
But GOD abhors the facrifice,
Where not the heart is found.

IV.

LORD fearch our thoughts, and try our ways,

And make our fouls fincere:

Then shall we ftand before thy face,

And find acceptance there.