v.14-16,22-24
C. M.
Christ our strength and righteousness.

My Savior, my almighty Friend,
When I begin thy praise,
Where will the growing numbers end,
The numbers of thy grace?

Thou art my everlasting trust,
Thy goodness I adore;
And since I knew thy graces first,
I speak thy glories more.

My feet shall travel all the length
Of the celestial road,
And march with courage in thy strength,
To see my Father God.

When I am filled with sore distress
For some surprising sin,

v.1-8,16-18,22
C. M.
Support for the afflicted and tempted soul.

O God, my refuge, hear my cries,
"Behold my flowing tears;
For earth and hell my hurt devise,
And triumph in my fears.

Their rage is leveled at my life,
My soul with guilt they load,
And fill my thoughts with inward strife,
To shake my hope in God.

With inward pain my heart-strings sound,
I groan with ev'ry breath;
Horror and fear beset me round
Amongst the shades of death.

O were I like a feathered dove,
And innocence had wings,

Creatures vain, and God all-sufficient.

Blest is the nation where the Lord
Hath fixed his gracious throne,
Where he reveals his heav'nly word,
And calls their tribes his own.

His eye with infinite survey
Does the whole world behold;
He formed us all of equal clay,
And knows our feeble mold.

Kings are not rescued by the force
Of armies from the grave;
Nor speed nor courage of a horse
Can the bold rider save.

Vain is the strength of beasts or men,
To hope for safety thence;
But holy souls from God obtain

Storm and thunder.

Give to the Lord, ye sons of fame,
Give to {he Lord renown and power,
Ascribe due honors to his name,
And his eternal might adore.

The Lord proclaims his power aloud
Over the ocean and the land;
His voice divides the wat'ry cloud,
And lightnings blaze at his command.

He speaks, and tempest, hail, and wind,
Lay the wide forest bare around:
The fearful hart and frighted hind
Leap at the terror of the sound.

To Lebanon he turns his voice,
And lo, the stately cedars break;

v.8,9,13,14
C. M.
Prayer and hope.

Soon as I heard my Father say,
"Ye children, seek my grace,"
My heart replied without delay,
"I'll seek my Father's face."

Let not thy face be hid from me,
Nor frown my soul away;
God of my life, I fly to thee
In a distressing day.

Should friends and kindred near and dear
Leave me to want or die,
My God would make my life his care,
And all my need supply.

My fainting flesh had died with grief
Had not my soul believed,
To see thy grace provide relief;

Courage in death, and hope of the resurrection.

When God is nigh, my faith is strong;
His arm is my almighty prop:
Be glad, my heart; rejoice, my tongue;
My dying flesh shall rest in hope.

Though in the dust I lay my head,
Yet, gracious God, thou wilt not leave
My soul for ever with the dead,
Nor lose thy children in the grave.

My flesh shall thy first call obey,
Shake off the dust, and rise on high;
Then shalt thou lead the wondrous way
Up to thy throne above the sky.

There streams of endless pleasure flow;

v.7-9,13-18
C. M.
The seasons of the year.

With songs and honors sounding loud,
Address the Lord on high;
Over the heav'ns he spreads his cloud,
And waters veil the sky.

He sends his showers of blessing down
To cheer the plains below;
He makes the grass the mountains crown,
And corn in valleys grow.

He gives the grazing ox his meat,
He hears the raven's cry;
But man, who tastes his finest wheat,
Should raise his honors high.

His steady counsels change the face
Of the declining year;

v.1,2
C. M.
Assistance and victory in the spiritual warfare.

For ever blessed be the Lord,
My Savior and my shield;
He sends his Spirit with his word,
To arm me for the field.

When sin and hell their force unite,
He makes my soul his care,
Instructs me to the heav'nly fight,
And guards me through the war.

A friend and helper so divine
Does my weak courage raise;
He makes the glorious vict'ry mine,
And his shall be the praise.

Persecutors punished.

Up from my youth, may Isr'el say,
Have I been nursed in tears;
My griefs were constant as the day,
And tedious as the years.

Up from my youth I bore the rage
Of all the sons of strife;
Oft they assailed my riper age,
But not destroyed my life.

Their cruel plow had torn my flesh
With furrows long and deep;
Hourly they vexed my wounds afresh,
Nor let my sorrows sleep.

The Lord grew angry on his throne,
And, with impartial eye,
Measured the mischiefs they had done,

Pleading with submission.

O thou whose grace and justice reign
Enthroned above the skies,
To thee our hearts would tell their pain,
To thee we lift our eyes.

As servants watch their master's hand,
And fear the angry stroke;
Or maids before their mistress stand,
And wait a peaceful look;

So for our sins we justly feel
Thy discipline, O God;
Yet wait the gracious moment still,
Till thou remove thy rod.

Those that in wealth and pleasure live,
Our daily groans deride,
And thy delays of mercy give