XL.
1
With patience wayting on the Lord,
His time I did attend.
He bowd Him doun and heard my cry,
And pul'd me vp in end;
2
Plung'd in a pitt, where tumbling floods
With hideous horror roard,
And sinking in the myrie clay,
Me to my feett restor'd,
Me on a Rock Hee rays'd and stay'd
My steps, that walk abrod
3
I might. Yea, with a new song fil'd
My mouth, praise to our God.
To many this shall manifest
Be made, who Him shall feare,
And confidently to the Lord,
In danger, shall draw neare.
4
Blest is the man who maks the Lord
His trust! hee in whose eyes
The proud have no respect, nor such
As turne aside to lies.
5
O many, many, (Lord my God!)
Thy works which wondrous are,
Thy thoghts to us-ward hast thow made;
They passe all reckoning far.
Who can attaine to lay them out,
In order vnto thee?
To reckon or relate them wer
A task too great for me.
6
Not sacrifice nor offrings broght,
Didst ansuer thy desire.
Mine ears Thow pierc'd; sin offrings none,
None brunt didst Thow require.
7
Then say'd I, Lo I come, O Lord,
'Tis writtin doune of me,
8
In volume of the book. To doe
Thy will, my joy sall be,
My God: thy law is in mine hart.
In the assemblie great
9
I spak, and did the tydings glade,
Of righteousnes, relate;
Lo, I my lips refrain'd not, Lord,
10
Thow knowst. Thy righteousnes,
Not hidg in my hart, I haue
Declaird thy faithfullnes
And thy salvation; thy kinde love
And treuth, by thee reveald,
I from the congregation great
Have not kept vp conceild.
11
Thy tender mercies do thow not,
O Lord, withhold from me.
Continowally let thy kind love
And truth my saifty be.
12
For I with evills on all sids,
(More then can weell be told,)
Am compast. My iniquities
Have on me taken hold,
That to look vp strength none remains;
My hairs ar but a few
With them compaird; that to mine heart
Then faintnes doth ensue.
13
Be pleasd, O Lord, me to rescue;
Do not thine ayde delay,
14
And such to shame and ruine bring,
As seek my soule to slay.
Let them, (turnd backward,) blush, who joy
At my calamitie.
15
Sad desolation the reward
Of their disgrace let bee,
Who over me insult with words
Of scorne and proud disdain;
16
But them that seek thee let rejoyce,
And glad in thee remaine.
The Lord be magnifyd: the voice
Let be of every one,
Continowally, who lovers are
Of thy salvation.
17
But poore and neidie I, yet lay'th
The Lord my call to heart.
My God, O stay not, Thow my help
And my deliuerer art.
