Book of Psalms
PSALM XXVIII.
George Burgess
On thee I call, O Lord my Rock;
Oh, turn not, while I crave;
Lest, if thy silence seem to mock,
I journey tow'rds the grave.
Lest, with the nameless dwellers there,
I find my last long home.
See my spread hands, and hear my prayer,
That seek thy sacred dome.
Nor snatch me hence with yonder crowd,
The men of secret sin.
Whose words of peace axe fair and loud,
While treach'ry lurks within.
Reward them as their hearts have planned;
On them their treach'ry crown:
They have not own'd the Lord's high hand;
That hand shall sweep them down.
Prais'd be the Lord! He heard my voice,
The Lord, my buckler strong:
My trusting heart shall loud rejoice,
And loud my grateful song.
The Lord is his anointed's might:
Oh, save thy people true:
Refresh them with thy pure delight,
And bear them conqu'ring through.
Authors:
Psalms:
Poetry of the Psalms
The "Poetry of the Psalms" is a collection of poems expressing the struggles, fears, anger, joy and love revealed in the Psalms of the Bible. They were written over hundreds of years by various authors, including Isaac Watts, Charles Wesley, George Burgess, Charles Spurgeon, Abraham Coles, Augustus Toplady, Tate and Brady.
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