PSALM XXXIV.

George Burgess

Come, let our cheerful songs accord
To lift his name on high:
Distress'd and poor, I sought the Lord,
And he received my cry.

Expecting him, the eye grows bright,
And shame and sorrow flee;
Flee, as, at pray'r's deliv'ring might,
Far off they fled from me.

God's angels camp, a guardian band,
Around the humble just:
How bless'd their portion at his hand!
Oh, taste and see, and trust!

In God's pure fear with peace abide;
Want shall not reach his saints;
Kept, e'en while prowling far and wide,
The famish'd lion faints.

Listen and learn, ye young in days,
How holy wisdom fears:
Might ye not crave in prosp'rous ways
A joyous length of years?

Ne'er let your tongue with malice burn,
Ne'er be your lips untrue:
O'er strife and sin victorious turn,
And peace, sweet peace, pursue.

Peace smiles from God along the path
Where righteous pray'rs arise:
Red o'er the wicked flames his wrath,
And all their mem'ry dies.

Saviour of ev'ry contrite breast,
He comes in days of need:
Though foes the saints' sad path invest,
Yet not a limb shall bleed.

Vengeance, for all the scoffer's dreams,
Dread recompense shall claim;
While God his servants' soul redeems,
And saves their trust from shame.