University of Virginia Library

PSALM XVI.

Father of All! my soul defend;
On Thee my stedfast hopes depend.
“Thou, mightiest Lord, and none beside,
“Thou art my God,” my heart has cried:
In vain, with grateful zeal, I burn
Thy boundless goodness to return;
In vain would gifts by Me bestow'd
Augment the treasures of my God.
Yet shall my love on All descend,
Whose Souls to thy Decrees attend,
My heart's desire to each incline,
Whose saintlike Virtue marks him Thine.
Woe to the wretch estrang'd from Thee,
Who bows to Gods miscall'd the knee;
Be witness to my guilt, if e'er
Their draughts of offer'd blood I share,
If, while thy breath my life sustains,
Their name my hallow'd lip profanes.
Thee, Lord, my patrimony, Thee
The portion of my cup I see:
Each blessing by thy care secur'd,
Life's choicest gifts around me pour'd
I view; nor finds my searching eye
A Lot, whose worth with mine shall vie.
Thee let me bless, the faithful Guide,
Whose counsels o'er my life preside,
And wisdom to my wakeful breast
At midnight's silent hour suggest.
In all my acts, in each intent,
Thee to my soul my thoughts present,
Whose sure defence my gate has barr'd,
And planted on my right a guard.
For this my heart, for this my tongue,
Shall meditate the joyful Song;
And though (Thy Will has thus ordain'd,)
My flesh to death's dark shades descend,
Yet Hope ev'n there, its constant Guest,
Shall smooth the pillow of my rest.
Thou from the grave my soul shalt claim,
Nor leave thy Servant, in whose frame
Thy hallowing Spirit dwells inshrin'd,
To pale Corruption's pow'r resign'd,
But to my eyes, in full survey,
The op'ning paths of Life display;
Those paths that to thy presence bear;
For plenitude of Bliss is there,
And pleasures, Lord, unmix'd with woe,
At Thy right hand for ever flow.