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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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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
  
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 LVII. 
 LVIII. 
 LIX. 
 LX. 
 LXI. 
 LXII. 
 LXIII. 
 LXIV. 
 LXV. 
 LXVI. 
 LXVII. 
 LXVIII. 
 LXIX. 
 LXX. 
 LXXI. 
 LXXII. 
 LXXIII. 
 LXXIV. 
 LXXV. 
 LXXVI. 
 LXXVII. 
PSALM LXXVII.
 LXXVIII. 
 LXXIX. 
 LXXX. 
 LXXXI. 
 LXXXII. 
 LXXXIII. 
 LXXXIV. 
  
 LXXXV. 
 LXXXVI. 
 LXXXVII. 
 LXXXVIII. 
 LXXXIX. 
 XC. 
 XCI. 
 XCII. 
 XCIII. 
 XCIV. 
 XCV. 
 XCVI. 
 XCVII. 
 XCVIII. 
  
 XCIX. 
 C. 
  
 CI. 
 CII. 
 CIII. 
  
 CIV. 
 CV. 
 CVI. 
 CVII. 
 CVIII. 
 CIX. 
 CX. 
 CXI. 
 CXII. 
 CXIII. 
 CXIV. 
 CXV. 
 CXVI. 
 CXVII. 
  
 CXVIII. 
 CXIX. 
 CXX. 
 CXXI. 
 CXXII. 
 CXXIII. 
 CXXIV. 
 CXXV. 
 CXXVI. 
 CXXVII. 
 CXXVIII. 
 CXXIX. 
 CXXX. 
 CXXXI. 
 CXXXII. 
 CXXXIII. 
 CXXXIV. 
 CXXXV. 
 CXXXVI. 
 CXXXVII. 
 CXXXVIII. 
 CXXXIX. 
 CXL. 
 CXLI. 
 CXLII. 
 CXLIII. 
 CXLIV. 
 CXLV. 
 CXLVI. 
 CXLVII. 
 CXLVIII. 
  
 CXLIX. 
  
 CL. 
  
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 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
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 XXXV. 

PSALM LXXVII.

To God I will my voice direct,
A voice of love and fear,
And it shall have the due effect
With his paternal ear.
To Christ my Saviour I complain
Midst sores and raging smart;
When tedious night increases pain,
Discomfort damps my heart.
When grief o'erpow'rs with its excess
My mind, and blunts her edge,
My soul's vexation for redress
I will to God alledge.

70

Mine eyes thy plagues withhold from rest,
And on my slumbers break;
I am so feeble and oppress'd,
That I can scarcely speak.
I have reflected on the years
With happy seasons clast,
And strove to sooth my streaming tears
By thinking on the past.
I call to mind my dawn and noon,
Which were the themes of song,
And with my heart by night commune,
To make my spirits strong.
Will God from mine incessant cries
Eternal absence keep,
And will he send no more supplies
To those that pray and weep?
Are all his mercies wholly gone,
That nothing can restore,
And are his promises withdrawn
For ever, evermore?
Has God forgotten to be kind
When mortals are diseas'd,
And shall his goodness be confin'd,
Because he is displeas'd?
My guilt precipitates my sand—
I therefore will recall
The days of God's indulgent hand
To Jacob more than all:
Thy charity to restiff souls
Thy works and arm sublime;
And I will recognize the rolls
Of antiquated time.
I will on that convincing force
Of all thine actions dwell,
And in colloquial intercourse
Thy truth and marvels tell.
Thy ways are very truth and light,
And thee their God declare;
What pow'r in magnitude and might
Can with our God compare?
Thou art the God, which self-aver'd
Such wonders couldst achieve;
And hast promulg'd thy pow'rful word,
That mortals might believe.
The people whom thy might restor'd,
Thy mercy shall acquit,
Redeeming Jacob from the sword,
And Joseph from the pit.
The waters saw thee, O'Most High,
The waters were afraid,
And ocean left his bottom dry,
His inmost depths dismay'd.
The clouds their copious rain distill'd,
And midst the waters hot
The sounding air the thunder fill'd,
And all thy darts were shot.
Thy thunder's voice was heard around,
The quickning lightnings shone,
And run and flash upon the ground,
Earth's hollow caverns groan.
Thy way is where the waters yield,
And in the briny baths,
And there thy footsteps are conceal'd,
Nor can one trace thy paths.
Their way, like sheep, thy people won
Before the shepherd's rod,
Their priest was Aaron, Jethro's son
Their chief, and Christ their God.