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PSAL. III. Aug. 9. 1653.

When he fled from Abfalom.

Ord how many are my foes!

How many those

That in arms against me rife!
Many are they

That of my life distrustfully thus say,
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou Lord art my fhield my glory,
Thee through my story

Th'exalter of my head I count ;
Aloud I cry'd

Unto Jehovah, he full foon reply'd
And heard me from his holy mount.
1 lay and flept, I wak’d again,
For my sustain

Was the Lord. Of many millions
The populous rout

I fear not, though incamping round about
They pitch against me their Pavilions.
Rife, Lord, fave me my God, for thou
Haft fmote ere now

On the cheek-bone all my foes,

Of men abhorr'd

Haft broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord3 Thy bleffing on thy people flows.

PSAL. IV. Aug. 10. 1653.

A

Nfwer me when I call,
God of my righteousness,

In ftraights and in distress

Thou didst me difinthrall

And fet at large; now spare,

Now pity me, and hear my earnest pray'ı.

Great ones how long will ye

My glory have in fcorn,

How long be thus forborn
Still to lové vanity,

To love, to feek, to prize

Things falfe and vain, and nothing else but lies?

Yet know the Lord hath chofe,

Chofe to himself apart,

The good and meek of heart

(For whom to choose he knows)

Jehovah from on high

Will hear my voice what time to him I cry.

Be aw'd, and do not fin,

Speak to your hearts alone,
Upon your beds, each one,
And be at peace within.

Offer the offerings just

Of righteousness, and in Jehovah trust.

Many there be that say

Who yet will fhew us good

Talking like this world's brood;

But, Lord, thus let me pray,

On us lift up the light,

Lift up the favour of thy countenance bright, Into my heart more joy

And gladness thou hast put,

Than when a year of glut

Their ftores doth over-cloy,

And from their plenteous grounds

With vast increase their corn and wine abounds,

In peace at once will I

Both lay me down and fleep,

For thou alone doft keep

Me fafe where e'er I lie;

As in a rocky Cell

Thou Lord alone in safety mak'ft me dwell.

PSAL. V. Aug. 12. 1653.

Ehovah to my words give ear,
My meditation weigh,

Jehovah

The voice of my complaining hear

My King and God; for unto thee I pray.

Jehovah thou my early voice

Shalt in the morning hear,

I'th' morning I to thee with choice

Will rank my Prayers, and watch till thou appear,

For thou art not a God that takes

In wickedness delight,

Evil with thee no biding makes,

Fools or mad men ftand not within thy fight.

All workers of iniquity

Thou hat't; and them unbleft

Thou wilt destroy that fpeak a lie;

The bloody and guileful man God doth deteft.

But I will in thy mercies dear
Thy numerous mercies go

Into thy House; I in thy fear

Will towards thy Holy Temple worship low;
Lord lead me in thy righteousness,

Lead me because of those

That do obferve if I tranfgrefs,

Set thy ways right before, where my step goes,
For in his faltring mouth unstable

No word is firm or footh
Their infide, troubles miferable;

An open grave their throat,their tongue they smooth God, find them guilty, let them fall

By their own counfels quell'd;

Push them in their rebellions all

Still on; for against thee they have rebell'd;

Then all who truft in thee shall bring

Their joy, while thou from blame

Defend' them, they shall ever fing And fhall triumph in thee, who love thy name. For thou Jehovah wilt be found

To bless the just man ftill,

As with a fhield thou wilt furround

Him with thy lasting favour and good will.

PSAL. VI. Aug. 13. 1653.

L

Ord in thine anger do not reprehend me,

Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;
Pity me, Lord, for I am much deject,

Am very weak and faint; heal and amend me,
For all my bones, that even with anguish ake,
Are troubled, yea my foul is troubled fore,
And thou, O Lord, how long? turn Lord, restore
My foul, O fave me for thy goodness fake:
For in death no emembrance is of thee;

Who in the grave can celebrate thy praife?
Wearied I am with fighing out my days,
Nightly my Couch I make a kind of Sea;
My Bed I water with my tears; mine Eye
Through grief confumes, is waxen old and dark
I'th' midst of all mine enemies that mark.
Depart all ye that work iniquity,

[pray's,

Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping
The Lord hath heard, the Lord hath heard my
My fupplication with acceptance fair
The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping.
Mine enemies fhall all be blank and daf'd

With much confusion; then grow red with fhame, They shall return in hafte the way they came, And in a moment shall be quite abafh'd.