Psalme XVIII.
[My Heart on Thee is fix'd, my Strength, my Power]
[Part 1.]
My Heart on Thee is fix'd, my Strength, my Power,
My stedfast Rocke, my Fortresse, my high Tower,
My God, my Safetie, and my Confidence,
The Horne of my Salvation, my Defence.
My Songs shall thy deserved Praise resound:
For at my Prayers thou wilt my Foes confound.
Sorrowes of Death on everie side assail'd,
And dreadfull flouds of Impious Men prevail'd:
Sorrowes of Hell my compast Soule dismayd;
And to intrap me, deadly Snares were layd.
In this Distresse I cry'd, and call'd upon
The Lord, who heard me from his Holy Throne.
He trembling Earth in his fierce Anger strooke;
Th'unfixed roots of aierie Mountaines shooke;
Smoke from his Nostrils flew; devouring Fire
Brake from his Mouth; Coles kindled by his Ire.
In his Descent bow'd Heaven with Earth did meet,
And gloomy Darkenesse roll'd beneath his Feet,
A Golden-winged Cherubin bestrid,
And on the swiftly flying Tempest rid.
Part 2.
He Darknesse made his secret Cabinet;
Thicke Fogs, and dropping Clouds about him set:
The Beames of his bright Presence these expell;
VVhence showres of burning Coles and Hailestones fell.
From troubled Skies loud claps of Thunder brake;
In Haile and darting Flames th'Almightie spake:
VVhose Arrowes my amazed Foes subdue;
And at their scatred Troups his Lightning threw.
The Ocean could not his deepe Botome hide;
The Worlds conceal'd Foundations were descri'd
At thy rebuke, Jehovah; at the blast
Even of the breath which through thy nostrils past.
He with extended armes his Servant saves,
And drew me sinking from th'inraged waves:
From my proud foes by his assistance freed,
VVho swolne with hate, no lesse in strength exceed.
VVithout his aid, I in that stormie Day
Of my affliction, had become their prey:
VVho from those straits of danger by his Might
Enlarg'd my Soule; for I was his delight.
Part 3.
The Lord according to my innocence,
And Justice, did his saving grace dispence.
The narrow Path by him prescrib'd, I tooke;
Nor like the wicked, my Great God forsooke.
For all his Judgements were before mine eyes;
I with his statutes daily did advise,
And ever walkt before him, void of guile:
No act or purpose did my soule defile.
For this he recompenc'd my righteousnesse
And crown'd my innocence with faire successe.
The Mercifull shall flourish in thy Grace;
Thy Righteousnesse the Righteous shall embrace:
Thou to the Pure thy purity wilt show;
And the perverse shall thy aversenesse know.
For thou wilt thy afflicted People save;
The proud cast down, downe to the greedy grave.
Thou Lord wilt make my taper to shine bright,
And cleare my darkenesse with celestiall Light.
Through Thee I have against an Host prevail'd;
And by thy aid a loftie Bulwarke scal'd.
Part. 4.
Gods path is perfect, all his words are just;
A shield to those that in his promise trust.
What God is there in Heaven or Earth but ours!
What Rocke but He against assailing Powers!
He breath'd new strength and courage in the day
Of Battell, and securely cleer'd my way.
He makes my feet outstrip the nimble Hinde,
Up to the Mountaines, where I safetie finde.
'Tis he that teacheth my weake hands to fight:
A Bow of steele is broken by their might.
Thou didst thy ample Shield before me set;
Thy Arme upheld, thy Favour made me great.
The passage of my steps on every side,
Thou hast inlarged, left my feet should slide.
I followed, overtooke; nor made retreat,
Untill victorious in my Foes defeat;
So charg'd with wounds, that they no longer stood;
But at my feet lay bathed in their blood.
Thou arm'st me with prevailing Fortitude,
And all that rose against me hast subdu'd:
Their stubborne necks subjected to my Will,
That I their bloud, who hate my Soule, might spill.
They cry'd aloud; but found no succour neere:
To thee, Jehovah; but thou would'st not heare.
Part. 5.
I pounded them like dust, which Whirle-winds raise:
Trod under-foot as dirt in beaten wayes.
From Popular Furie thou hast set me free;
Among the Heathen hast exalted me;
Whom unknowne Nations serve: as soone obey
As heare of me; and yeeld unto my sway.
The Stranger-borne, beset with horror, fled;
And in their close Retreats betray their dread.
O praise the living Lord, the Rocke whereon
I build; the God of my Salvation!
'Tis he who rights my wrongs; the People bends
To my Subjection; from my Foe defends.
Thou raisest me above their proud controule;
And from the violent Man hast freed my Soule.
The Heathen shall admire my Thankefulnesse:
My Songs shall thy immortall Praise expresse.
A great and manifold Deliverance
God gives his King: his mercie doth advance
In his Anointed; and will showre his grace
Eternally on David and his Race.
