PSALM IV.

George Burgess

How long shall men, to die but born,
My glory change to shame and scorn?
Why seek ye still each vain deceit,
Ana deem the words of falsehood sweet?

But know, the Lord hath set apart
One chosen shrine, the upright heart:
And he who sav'd in hours of fear
Shall yet in mercy bow his ear.

Then, dread his wrath, and flee from sin,
And write his judgments deep within:
Try thine own breast, by night, alone,
And bend in silence at his throne.

Come with the off'ring of the just,
And make thy God thine only trust:
While thousands cry, some good to see,
Lord, let thy face shine bright on me.

It glads my heart, that joy divine,
Far more than wealth of corn and wine:
I lay me down to peaceful sleep,
For thou, O Lord, alone canst keep.