PSALM XL.
1
With patient hope my God I sought;
He to his Suppliant's want his thought
In happiest hour applied:
He from the dark and miry pit
High on the rock has rais'd my feet;
Nor fear my steps to slide.
2
His praise inspires my grateful tongue,
And dictates to my lips a song
In strains unheard before.
Admiring crouds his work shall see,
Their strength on Him repose with Me,
With Me his name adore.
3
Blest, who in Thee, great God, conside,
Nor madly trust the arm of pride,
And helps that but betray.
Thy Mercies, Lord, all praise surmount,
Nor numbers can their sum recount,
Nor words their worth display.
4
Nor Sacrifice thy Love can win,
Nor Off'rings from the stain of sin
Obnoxious Man shall clear:
Thy hand my mortal frame prepares,
(Thy hand, whose signature it bears,)
And opes my willing ear.
5
And, since the Blood of Victims slain,
And hallow'd Gifts, attempt in vain
T' avert th' Offender's doom,
Myself th' atonement will provide;
Lo! (touch'd with pity thus I cried,)
I come, my God, I come.
6
Thy Book, by sacred Bards unroll'd,
My full obedience has foretold
To Thy mysterious Will.
His just assent thy Servant gives,
Thy words my Breast with joy receives,
My Hands with zeal fulfill.
7
The faithful Witness to thy fame,
Aloud thy Justice I proclaim
To Ahrabam's chosen Race:
My lips, Thou know'st, have ne'er declin'd
To preach the Theme by Thee injoin'd,
The Wonders of thy Grace.
8
With strong desire my bosom glows
Thy Truth and Mercy to disclose,
In Man's relief display'd:
O let that Truth dispell my woe,
That Mercy, Lord, around me throw
Its all-protecting shade.
9
While griefs on griefs my cup have mix'd,
On earth my downward looks are fix'd;
The Sins, whose weight I bear,
(Those Sins, that number'd by the eye
The hairs that shade my head outvie,)
My heart with anguish tear.
10
Haste to thy Servant's rescue, haste;
My soul, by hostile numbers chas'd,
To Thee directs its pray'r.
In wild confusion backward borne
Their wish defeated let them mourn,
And lost in empty air.
11
Be shame their just reward assign'd,
While round me with relentless mind
Derision's shout they raise:
Thy Bliss let All who seek thee share,
And, taught thy Love, that Love declare
In songs of ceaseless praise.
12
While These in thy Salvation joy,
Increasing griefs my thought employ,
And speediest aid demand:
My Helper and Redeemer, hear;
O, instant in my cause appear,
And reach thy saving hand.
