Inno

cents.

The Lord to fight reftores the blind,
The Lord fupports the finking mind;
He fends the wounded confcience peace:
He helps the stranger in distress,

The widow and the fatherless;

He

grants the prisoner sweet release.

I'll praise my Maker with my breath,
And, when my voice is loft in death,

Praise fhall employ my nobler pow'rs;
My days of praise shall ne'er be past,
While life, while thought, while being last,
Or immortality endures.

Praise thy God, my

foul! aloud

Addrefs the Lord on high!

O'er the wide heav'ns he spreads his cloud,
And waters veil the sky.

He

pours

his fhow'rs of bleffing down

To cheer the plains below;

He makes the grass the mountains crown,

The corn in vallies grow.

He fends to all his creatures meat,

And hears the raven's cry:
To Man he gives the flour of wheat,
Of life the due fupply.

He guides the planets as they roll,
Their course and order knows;
In Man, he heals th'afflicted foul,
And all its wounds can close.

PSALM CXLVIII.

Darwall's.

C

YE boundless realms of joy,

Exalt your maker's name!
In praise your fongs employ
Above the starry frame!
Your voices raise,

Ye Cherubim

And Seraphim,

To fing his praise!

Thou moon, that rul'ft the night,

Thou fun, that guid❜st the day,

Ye glitt'ring stars of light,

To him your homage pay!

His praise declare,

Ye heav'ns above,

And clouds that move.
In liquid air!

Darwall's.

Let all adore the Lord
And bless his holy name,

By whofe almighty word

They all from nothing came!

His firm decree

Stands ever faft,

And firm fhall last

From changes free.

O Praise

ye the Lord!-prepare your glad voice! The people his praise assembled shall fing; In his great Creator let Ifr'el rejoice!

Ye children of Sion, be glad in your King!

O praise ye the Lord!-exalt his great name!
Let tabret and harp with cymbals conspire!
Aloud to the nations his goodness proclaim,

And fwell to his glory the full-founding choir !

All things on Thee wait; Thou wilt them relieve: To each in due time Thou fendeft their food: They gather what bleffings thy wisdom fhall give, When Thou thy hand op'neft, they're filled with good.

But when in thy wrath Thou hideft thy face,

How trembleth the earth!-All nature muft mourn. When Thou their breath takeft, the whole human race From their duft created to duft must return.