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A translation of the psalms of David

attempted in the Spirit of Christianity, and adapted to the divine service. By Christopher Smart

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PSALM LXXX.
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PSALM LXXX.

O pastor of Jeshurun's flock,
Whom Joseph's sons intreat,
Give audience, and the bars unlock
Of thy cherubic seat.
While Ephraim and Manasses bow,
By Benjamin ador'd;
Stir up thyself, thy might avow,
And grant the help implor'd.
Turn us, O God—diffuse that light
Which penetrates the soul,
Remove the scales that dim our sight,
And thou shalt make us whole.
O Lord, to whom the saints resort,
God, whom the hosts obey;
How long wilt thou thy people thwart,
Which in contrition pray?
Their piteous souls thy throne accost,
The bread of tears they break;
The cup of weeping they exhaust,
As for thy grace they seek.
We are become a strife to those
That dwell on every side;
And thou hast made our deadly foes
Thy servants to deride.
Turn us, O God, diffuse that light,
Which penetrates the soul,
Remove the scales that dim our sight
And thou shalt make us whole.
From Egypt thou hast brought a vine
Of goodly branch and bloom;
Thou mad'st thy foes the field resign,
And set it in their room.
A place where it might spread and shoot
Thy love dispos'd and plann'd;
And when it once had fasten'd root,
It's clusters fill'd the land.
The hills were cover'd with the shade,
The tendrils interwove;
The grateful bow'rs the foliage made
Was like a cedar-grove.
Her branches to the ports she sent,
Where wafting ocean foams,
And her strong boughs with fruit were bent
As far as Jordan roams.
Why hast thou broken down her mound,
And rais'd her stately tow'r;
That all the wand'ring thieves around
Her grapes at will devour.
The furious boars with greedy tusk
The ranges overturn,
And goats and foxes to the husk
The luscious bunches churn.

76

Turn then again, O Lord of hosts,
Thy countenance benign,
And in our provinces and coasts
Revisit this thy vine.
And look upon the horrid waste
Where thine own vineyard stood,
And to the wounded branches haste
Thou made so strong and good.
Its boughs are yielded to the flame,
Its fibres to the knife;
But let thy grace their rage reclaim,
And they shall mend their life.
O set thine hand upon the head
Of thine adopted heir,
And bless us, that our foes may dread
Such savage deeds to dare.