v. 29.

God, the arbiter of War, and giver of Victory.

PRIEST.

LORD! what is man, that thou should'st him respect? Or what's his offspring, whom tnou deign'st to visit?

BARD.

Man is but vanity; his fleeting days

Pass over like a shadow.

SEMI-CHORUS.

Bow, O LORD,

Thy conclave-the siderial heavens descend;
Illume the mountains with thy majesty ;
Dart out thy lightnings, swift as arrows shot
From levell'd bows, and humble all the proud,
Who boast of war.

CHORUS.

Pervert, and scatter those

Who glory in destruction; but send forth
Thy hand from high and save thy servant.

PRELATE.

Protect the King from the surrounding floods Of fierce ambition, and discordant strife, Which, as a torrent, bears thy servant down, And overwhelms with grief his righteous soul.

KING.

So will I sing, to sweetest melody,

A song of praise; to thee, O God, I'll sing;
For thou art he who victory giv'st to Kings,
And sav'st thy servant from the hurtful sword.

Prosperity and Peace under his Protection.

PRIEST.

v. 48.

Protect the King from all the latent guile Of fierce and cruel men, whose boast is vanity, And whose right hand is fraught with treacherous bribes.

BARD.

Then shall our princely sons, as verdant plants Spring up and flourish; and our blooming maids, Fair as Parian palaces shall rise,

In due proportions-passing polish'd art.

Then shall our spacious garners teem with stores
Of choicest treasure; and our fleecy flocks
Shall pair, and multiply to thousands: then
The lab'ring ox, shall with his lusty mate
Full well accord-and mutual burdens bear.

PRIEST.

The Captive's wail, and wasting want, far hence:

His ever-wakeful Providence shall chase,

And banish all complaining from our streets.

CHORUS.

Happy the Prince and People, who secure Abide in such a state! how safe the fold,

How blest the flock, whose shepherd is the LORD!

ORISON OF MOSES.

THE NINETIETH PSALM.*

IN all preceding generations, THOU,

O LORD, hast been our refuge. Long before
The mountains were uprear'd; ere yet thy hand
The stedfast earth had form'd; before all time,
From everlasting, thou alone art GOD-
To endless years the same. Thou turnest man
To desolation: then, by pity mov'd,

To him thou say'st-" Return, ye sons of men.”
A thousand ages in thy sight, when past,
As yesterday appear, or as a watch

Who numbers out the swift-wing'd hours till morn.
Man, borne as with a mighty torrent, sinks,
And soon finds shelter in the silent grave.
In early life he flourisheth and blooms,
Gay as the florid field; but lo! at eve
Cut down, and wither'd as the sapless herb:
So we consume beneath thy kindling ire,

And trembling dread the weight of thy displeasure:

Man's frail Estate commiserated.

Our secret sins are open to thy sight,

v. 19.

And all our frailties, LORD, are known to thee. When thou art angry, soon our days are gone, Our years spun out-so like a tale that's told. The days of man are threescore years and ten; If ought of strength at fourscore years remains, His life is then but a laborious warfare; He soon is summon'd hence, and seen no more. Who, of thy indignation, knows the power? Surpassing all our fear is thy displeasure. Teach us to number out our fleeting days, With hearts intent to ply the paths of wisdom. Turn, turn again, O Lord! How long?—At last Be gracious to thy servants. Satisfy us With mercy's sweetest stores, that we may spend Our residue of days in joy and gladness. Let future bliss abound-a recompense For days of past affliction, and for years Wherein thy servants were oppress'd with evil. So shall thy glorious work to them appear; And in their children's sight, thy beauty shine: Still let the glory of the Lord our GoD Descend upon us: all our handiwork Establish THOU to late posterity.