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The 139th Psalm.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


39

The 139th Psalm.

Thou hast, O Lord, my secret Soul descry'd,
Search'd thro' my Heart, and ev'ry Corner try'd:
My Sitting down and my Uprising are,
Within the Bounds of thy extensive Care.
Far off, my Thoughts were open to thy View,
Ere yet my Brain the young Conceptions knew.
With number'd Steps, I walk a measur'd Way,
Environ'd and encompass'd all the Day:
And, bending to my Bed, each gloomy Night,
I lay me down, and slumber in Thy Sight.
What need my Tongue my conscious Silence break?
Thou know'st my Words, before my Words I speak.

40

I am beset, as with an armed Band,
And fast enclos'd with thy restraining Hand;
Thy Knowledge does to ev'ry thing extend,
Which my weak Reason cannot comprehend.
Oh! whither shall I from thy Presence fly?
Or where conceal me from thy piercing Eye?
If I to Heav'n could climb the starry Way,
And thro' the shining Path my self convey,
To thy full View I clearly must be shown,
For there thou reign'st on thy eternal Throne.
Or should I to infernal Caves repair,
Thou still would'st see me, thou art present there.
Nor would it ought avail if I should flee,
Where humid Sun-beams rising leave the Sea;
Ev'n there thy Hand my wat'ry Way must guide,
And bear me safely o'er the dang'rous Tide.

41

Or if I say, the Darkness shall conceal
What busy Light's detecting Beams reveal;
Thy searching Eye will the deep Gloom pervade,
And Night it self be destitute of Shade.
The thickest Darkness can no Cov'ring be,
For Light and Darkness shine alike to Thee:
The Shadows flee before thy piercing Ray,
With Thee 'tis ever un-remitting Day.
Thou hast possest my very Reins and Heart,
And Life by Thee is stretch'd thro' ev'ry Part;
For me thou didst the nursing Womb prepare,
And lodg'd me safe from cold inclement Air.
Thee will I sing, dwell on thy Praises long,
Thou Theme of Angels, and the Seraph's Song!
Alas I do not, cannot understand
The fearful Wonders of thy forming Hand.

42

But yet my Soul does all thy Pow'r confess,
And owns it great to an extreme excess.
To thee, my previous Substance did appear,
Unfelt by her, who did the Substance bear.
Ere yet the swelling Womb its Burden knew,
While unperceiv'd the lifeless Matter grew;
In low and secret Darkness was I wrought,
And finely modell'd by Creating Thought.
My Infant Form to thee discover'd was,
Wrapt in a crude inseparated Mass;
And all my little Limbs thou didst behold,
Within thy Book thou hadst them all enroll'd,
Which lengthen'd Time did fashion and unfold.
Thy gracious Thoughts, how boundless they appear!
How to my Soul beyond Expression dear!

43

In vain I try to count thy Mercies o'er,
The Sands are fewer on the Sea-beat Shore.
Thou art an ever-present God to me,
When I awake, I find my self with Thee.
Sure thou wilt slay the Wicked and Unjust,
Leave me, ye Fools, who make not God your Trust.
Unrighteous Men thy holy Ways prophane,
And boldly take thy mighty Name in vain.
I hate them, Lord, who speak to thy Dispraise,
And grieve to see thy violated Ways.
With fiercest Rage my angry Bosom glows,
And with my own I number all thy Foes.
Search me again, O God, and try my Heart,
Lest secret Guilt should lurk in any Part.

44

Cleanse ev'ry Stain and guide me in the Way
That upwards shall my happy Soul convey,
To dwell with thee in everlasting Day.