Psalm CVIII. Paratum est Cor meum, &c.
I
It is resolv'd, nor will I any more
Distrust my God, as I have done before;
No! I will praise Him, and my heart,
Which has so oft betray'd me into fear,
Its burden in the song shall bear,
And, when my Harp begins, shall sing the highest Part.
II
Awake, my Harp, 'tis time for thee to'awake,
Prevent the day, and Thy great subject take!
Put all Thy strings on, shew Thy skill;
God and my soul are ready, be not slow,
For if we should before Thee go,
Thy strings would never half way reach up Heav'ns high Hill.
III
We come, O God, and with us up will raise,
High as Thy Love, and Truth, to Heav'n Thy praise.
The World shall hear what Thou hast done,
How signally Thou hast appear'd for me,
By Thy great Power hast set me free,
And for Thy works praise Him, whose Name they have not known.
IV
Then with Thy Mercy to the Clouds we'll flie,
And take new wing to mount to the Most High:
Above the Clouds exalted be,
Lord set Thy glory far above the skies.
And if so high we cannot rise,
From Heav'n do Thou descend, when we look up to Thee
V
Descend, and by the way Thy Name make known,
What Thou wilt do, by what Thy hand has done;
Hear me—My God has hear'd my Cry,
Has past His Word, and in it I rejoice,
Has given me of all lands my Choice,
And on my Gods Almighty promise I rely.
VI
Sechem is Mine, I will divide its Plain,
And o're the Vale of Succoth throw my Chain;
The Tribes of Israel shall obey,
Those which ly farthest off, or nearer stand,
Shall yield themselves to my Command,
Shall serve, whilst Judah gives them lawes, & holds the sway.
VII
Moab's my Wash pot, and shall sue to be
A Vassal to my basest drudgery;
Philistia shall my Chariot meet,
Honourd enough, if she may bear the yoke
Proud Edom has so often broke,
And Edom shall submit her neck and take my Feet.
VIII
But who to Edom will direct my course,
And entrance for Me into Bozra force?
God shall direct me to the Town;
God, who of late has seem'd to disappear,
And when He comes, viewing Him there,
The Walls to make Him Way shall open, or fall down.
IX
Help us O God, for we in vain implore,
A forreign aid, which wants Our succour more!
Thou art my help, through Thee my head
With Laurel shall be crown'd, and in my Wayes
Some Enemies necks the ground shall raise,
So that my feet shall triumph too, and on them tread.
