PSALM XVII.

George Burgess

Send forth my upright doom from thee;
And shield the truth from tyrant pow'rs:
Thine eyes my heart's deep motions see,
See e'en in midnight's loneliest hours.

There, thou hast found no vain deceit:
I bade my mouth from guile recoil;
And through thy word I kept my feet
From man's dark paths of crime and spoil.

Oh, hold me in thy sacred ways,
Lest these weak footsteps slide and fall:
Thou answ'ring God, my voice I raise;
Incline thine ear, and hear my call.

Shew far abroad thy wondrous grace,
Thou, whose right hand is strong to bear
Through hostile hosts the chosen race,
Who own thy right, and trust thy care.

Guard, as the tender eye we guard;
Hide, in the shadow of thy wing;
From foul oppressors, bold and hard,
Who gird me close, in deadly ring.

With lux'ry swell'd, proud things they say;
My guiltless steps they compass round;
As lurking lions, hot for prey,
They watch, to tear me to the ground.

Rise, mighty Lord, their pride to quell;
And let thy sword my safety ope:
Let thy right hand the ranks repel,
Who seek on earth their loftiest hope;

Whose whole brief portion here is stor'd;
Whose veins o'erflow with prosp'rous health;
Whose offspring gay surround their board,
And share, at last, their fleeting wealth.

Far other, better wealth be mine,
Thy face in holy worlds to see;
Contented with that joy divine,
When I shall wake, and be like thee.