PSALM XXXII.

George Burgess

Silent too long, by night, by day,
I groan'd my weary life away:
I pin'd beneath thy heavy hold;
And health's parch'd streams scarce faintly rolled.

I spoke my sin; I cover'd naught;
I bar'd to thee my guiltiest thought;
I vow'd my heart to God to tell,
And thou forgav'st, where'er I fell.

For this, while yet thy grace is near.
The good man's pray'r shall seek thine ear:
So, when thy wrath's fierce billows roar,
They shall not climb his peaceful shore.

Thou art the hold, where safe I cow'r;
Thou shield'st my head, when perils low'r;
And thou wilt yet my path surround
With songs that thy salvation sound.

Mine eye your way shall search and lead:
Oh, be not like the senseless steed,
Whose mouth must feel the bit and band,
Whose foot contemns thy mild command.

Griefs throng around the head unjust,
And mercies crown the faithful trust:
Then let your songs, ye just, accord,
And joy, ye upright, in the Lord!