The Psalms, Translated or Paraphrased in English Verse ::

As, press'd with woe, to Thee I cried,
Thy hand its healing pow'r applied,
And, while increasing languors gave
The signal to th' expecting grave
This mortal fabrick to receive,
Revers'd the doom, and bade me live.
Ye faithful Sons of Israel's name,
Your Maker's sanctity proclaim,
And, while his mercies on your breast
In sweet memorial stand impress'd,
To Him in joyful accents raise
The song of gratitude and praise.
Behold his Wrath's avenging blast,
How slow to rise, how soon o'erpast,
How prompt his Favour to dispense
Its life-imparting influence.
Grief for a night, obtrusive Guest,
Beneath our roof perchance may rest,
But Joy, with the returning day,
Shall wipe each transient tear away.

As pleas'd I cast my eyes around,
And view'd my life with blessings crown'd,
(While, safe in thy protecting hand,
High on the rock I took my stand,)
In confidence of soul I said,
“What ills shall e'er my peace invade?”

But, instant, Thou thy face hadst turn'd,
And prostrate on the earth I mourn'd:
I mourn'd, and, O my Guard, my Guide,
(With humbler spirit thus I cried,)
Shall aught of profit, if the ground
My blood absorb, to Thee redound?
Or, vocal in thy praise, the Dust
Proclaim thy Counsels wise and just,
And wake thy wondrous Acts to tell
Amid Corruption's dreary cell?
Thy aid, my God, in pity lend,
And gracious to my plaints attend.

Again the face of joy I wear;
Thy hand, indulgent to my pray'r,
The sackcloth from my loyns unbound,
With mirth's fair cincture wraps me round.
For this, my heart with zeal shall burn,
My tongue the bands of silence spurn,
And pleas'd, through life, in grateful verse
Thy Love, eternal Lord, rehearse.

University of Virginia Library

PSALM XXX.