PSALM CXLIII.

George Burgess

Nor let unpitying right
Thy servant's doom decide;
For living mortal in thy sight
Shall ne'er be justified.

The fierce pursuers' tread
My life has trampled down;
They lay me with the ancient dead,
Where midnight shadows frown.

My heart within me sinks;
For bitter floods o'erflow:
My inmost spirit trembling shrinks,
Deserted in her woe,

I think on days of old,
And all thy wonders trace;
The days that long thy might have told,
The wonders of thy grace.

To thee I stretch my hands;
To thee my tears complain;
And thirsts my soul, as thirsty lands
For drops of summer rain.

Oh, hasten, Lord, and hear,
For griefs my life consume:
Nor hide thy face, for I am near
The dwellers of the tomb.

Oh, let my hope but see
Thy love with dawning day;
And as I lift my heart to thee,
So lighten thou my way.

Redeem me from my foes,
And guide me in thy will:
I seek in thee a safe repose;
My God, my Refuge still!

Let thy good Spirit lead,
Till thy bright kingdom ope;
And be thy name, in all my need,
My life and conquering hope.

Destroy, thou just and true,
The slayer's fell design;
And all that hem my soul subdue,
For I am always thine!