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Then shall my sonl, with bliss divine,
The triumph of thy nation join;
And 'midst thine heritage rejoice,
With holy rapture in my voice! : ,

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PSALM CVII.

GIVE thanks to God, he reigns above, :
Kind are his thoughts, his name is love :
His mercy ages past have known,
And ages long to come shall own,' ..
Let the redeemed of the Lord,.
The wonders of his grace record ;
Israel, the people whom he chose,
And rescu'd from their mighty focs.
Like them, when our release we gain,
From sin's hard yoke and satan's chain :
And have this desert world to pass,
A dang rous and a tiresome place,
He feeds and clothes us all the way,
He guides our footsteps lest we stray,
He guards us with a pow'rful hand,
And brings us to the heav'nly land.
O let thy saints with joy record
The truth and goodness of the Lord :
How great his works ! how kind his ways !
Let every tongue pronounce his praise.

PSALM CVIII. MY heart is fix'd : eternal God! I'll sound thy honors all abroad : My glory shall exalt the song, My willing soul inspires my tongue. Awake my lute, my barp awake, I'll rise before the morning break, My strains of gratitude prepare, And through the lands thy praise declare. Beyond the heav'ns, a boundless height ! Thy mercy reigns in realms of light; Thy truth above the cloudy plains, Unchanging as thyself remains. Be thou, O God, exalted high, Extend thy name above the sky, O'er all the earth thy glory raise, Let all the earth pronounce thy praise. So let thy church their triumph prove, Thy church, bless'd object of thy love! Thy own right hand for strength prepare, And bear, o bear, thy servant's pray'r.

PSALM CIX. THOU glorious theme ofall my praise, While to thy throne my cries I raise, Great God, no more in silence wait, Regardless of my dang'rous state.

Around my sonl the wicked throng,
The treach'rous lips, the lying tongue:
Thus the Reilcemer's plaints arose,
Amidst the malice of his foes.

Their words a flaming torrent flow,
But causeless is the hate they show:
The scribe and priest their rage impart,
But love and pity melt his heart...:-)
Still for his foes his pray’rs arise,
- Father, forgive;" the Saviour cries:
Though for his grace with wrath they burn,
And batred for his love return.

PSALM CX...
ALL hail! victorious Lord,',
At God's right hand above; ...
Triumphant o'er thy foes !

Triumphant in thy love!
To thee our joyful songs we bring,
To thee we bow, all-conq'ring King !

O haste, victorious Prince,
That happy glorious day,
When souls, like drops of dew,

Shall own thy gentle sway :
O may it bless our longing eyes,
And bear our shouts beyond ihe skies.

All hail ! exalted Priest !
To thee our all we give,
Enthron'd above the skies,

All homage to receive!
There deign in our behalf to plead,
Tbere, Lord, for eper intercede.

PSALM CXI.
O PRAISE th' eternal King,
My heart shall join the song,
Where friends their private ofrings bring,

Or where his courts they throng.
In all his works and ways

His greatness strikes the sight,
There all his saints his wonders trace,
With ever fresh delight.
But, O ! what wonders meet,
And in redemption shine!
There all his honors are complete,

His glories are divine!
His righteousness appears,

And stands for ever sure,
'Tis everlasting as his years,
And shall his church secure.

PSALM CXII.
BLEST is the man whose soft'ning heart

Feels all another's pain;
To whom the supplicating eye,

Was never rais d in vain :

Whose breast expands with gen'rous warmth,

A stranger's woes to foal;
And bleeds in pity o'er the wound

He wants the pow'r to heal.
He spreads his kind supporting arms

To ev'ry child of grief :
His secret bounty largely flows,

And brings unask'd relief.
To gentle offices of love

His feet are never slow :
He views, through mercy's melting eye,

A brother in a foe.
To him protection shall be shown,

And mercy from above
Descend on those, who thus fulfily

The perfect law of love.

PSALM CXIII.
PRAISE ye the Lord : his praise record,
Ye servants of th' eternal Lord : .
Jehovah's pow'r and grace proclaim,
With endless bonors on his name!
Jesus, the name which angels bless,
In strains of noblest praise confess :
Ye saints, your rising Lord adore,
Through time, till time shall be no more.

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