PSALM CXXV.

George Burgess

As round Mount Sion's sacred charms
The hills extend their circling arms,
So stands the Lord, a host unseen,
His saints' beleaguer'd home to screen.

Guilt's iron sceptre shall not last
Where God his people's lot hath cast,
Nor grow th' oppressor's might so strong,
To bend the upright hand to wrong.

Bless, righteous Lord, the righteous heart,
And while the slaves of subtle art,
The tempted share the tempter's doom,
Shall peace and love for Israel bloom.