PSALM XXXVI.

Tate and Brady

2 He soothes himself, retir'd from sight,
Secure he thinks his treach'rous game;
Till his dark plots, expos'd to light,
Their false contriver brand with shame.

3 In deeds he is my foe confest,
Whilst with his tongue he speaks me fair;
True wisdom's banish'd from his breast,
And vice has sole dominion there.

4 His wakeful malice spends the night
In forging his accurs'd designs;
His obstinate ungen'rous spite
No execrable means declines.

5 But, Lord, thy mercy, my sure hope,
Above the heav'nly orb ascends;
Thy sacred truth's unmeasur'd scope
Beyond the spreading sky extends.

6 Thy justice, like the hills, remains;
Unfathom'd depths thy judgments are;
Thy providence the world sustains;
The whole creation is thy care.

7 Since of thy goodness all partake,
With what assurance should the just
Thy shelt'ring wings their refuge make,
And saints to thy protection trust.

8 Such guests shall to thy courts be led
To banquet on thy love's repast;
And drink, as from a fountain's head,
Of joys that shall for ever last.

9 With thee the springs of life remain;
Thy presence is eternal day:
10 O let thy saints thy favour gain;
To upright hearts thy truth display.

11 Whilst pride's insulting foot would spurn,
And wicked hand my life surprise;
12 Their mischiefs on themselves return;
Down, down they're fall'n, no more to rise.