PSALM XXIII.

GOD, my Shepherd and my Guide,
Will for all my wants provide;

He in pastures green will feed me,
And beside still waters lead me;
He my ransomed soul shall bless,
Turning it to righteousness;

And the path I ought to take

Teach me, for his dear name's sake.

Yea, when earth itself at last,

From my sight is fading fast,

When with shadows dark o'erspread,

Death's lone valley I shall tread;

Yet no evil will I fear,

For thou, Lord, wilt still be near;

With thy Rod and Staff wilt be

Present then to comfort me.

Thou, when foemen closed me round,

Mad'st my table to abound;

Oil upon my head didst pour,

And didst make my cup run o'er ;

Me thy kindness ever new,

And fresh mercies still pursue;

Therefore will I all my days

Seek thy House, and sing thy praise.

PSALM XXXIX.

FROM all offence, I said,, and wrong
I will take heed to guard my tongue;
A bridle on my mouth I'll lay,
While in my sight the ungodly stay.

With such resolve my peace I held,
My lips to silence I compell'd;

Yea, though it cost me grief and pain,
E'en from good words I did refrain.

While thus I mused, the fire suppress'd Long time within my labouring breast, Kindling at last, resistless broke,

And as the Spirit moved, I spoke.

Lord, let me know mine end, I said,
And since my days are numbered,
Tell me their sum, and make me sure,

How long my life may yet endure.

Behold, my days are but a span,

For verily the age of Man

Is nothing in respect of Thee,
But altogether vanity.

Man walketh in a shadow vain,
Vexing himself with fruitless pain,
He heaps up riches, nor the while
Knows who shall use the hoarded pile.

And now my hope, what is it, Lord?

On Thee it rests and thy sure word; Keep me from all transgressions free, The scoff of fools I would not be.

In mute submission, for 'tis Thou,

Who chastenest me, I humbly bow; Yet oh, if such thy will, my God,

Take from me thy consuming rod.

When with rebukes thou dost chastise

Proud man for his iniquities,

Thou mak'st his beauty to decay,

Like garment to the moth a prey.

Thus ev'ry man, whate'er his state,
Or rich, or poor, or mean, or great,
Yea, ev'ry man whoe'er he be,
Is altogether vanity.

Hear Thou my prayer, in pity hear, And to my cry bow down thine ear; Oh keep not silence when I call, Nor let my tears unheeded fall!