THE PSALTER

He blessed is who neither loosely treads
The straying steps as wicked counsel leads,
Nor for bad mates in way of sinners waiteth,
Nor yet himself with idle scorners seateth,
But on God's law his whole delight doth bind,
Which night and day he keeps within his mind.
He shall be like a freshly planted tree,

To which sweet springs of water neighbors be;
Whose branches fail not timely fruit to nourish,
Nor withered leaf shall make it fail to flourish.
So all the things whereto that man doth bend
Shall prosper still with him unto the end.

Such blessings shall not wicked wretches see,
But like wild chaff with wind shall scattered be;
For neither shall the men in sin delighted
Subsist when they to highest doom are cited,
Nor yet shall suffered be a place to take
Where goodly men do their assembly make.
For God doth know, and, knowing, doth approve
The trade of them that just proceedings love;
But they that sin in sinful breast do cherish,
The way they go shall be the way to perish.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

73

PSALM IV

Great God of righteousness and love,
Who oft hast heard my prayer,
Again my heart would soar above;
Receive the suppliant there.

I know the Lord hath set apart
The soul that loves Him well;
O may He guide my wandering heart
In holy love to dwell.

O stand in awe before His face,
And break His laws no more;
Communing with your heart at night,
Be still, and God adore.

Let righteousness like incense rise
To Him all pure and just;
He will accept this sacrifice,
Then in His mercy trust.

For those who grope in darkest night,
And, doubting, ask for good,
O Lord! may Thy celestial light
Be in their souls renewed.

Thou art my life, my light, my joy;
Thy mercies never cease;
Beneath Thine ever-waking eye,

I'll rest and sleep in peace.

MRS. FOLLEN

PSALM XIII

195

74

PSALM XIII

Lord, how long, how long wilt Thou
Quite forget and quite neglect me?
How long, with a frowning brow,
Wilt Thou from Thy sight reject me?

How long shall I seek a way

From this maze of thoughts perplexed,
Where my grieved mind, night and day,
Is with thinking tired and vexed?
How long shall my scornful foe,
On my fall his greatness placing,
Build upon my overthrow,

And be graced by my disgracing?

Hear, O Lord and God, my cries!
Mark my foes' unjust abusing;
And illuminate mine eyes,

Heavenly beams in them infusing—
Lest my woes, too great to bear,

And too infinite to number,
Rock me soon, 'twixt hope and fear,
Into death's eternal slumber.

Lest my foes their boasting make:

66

'Spite of right, on him we trample ";

And a pride in mischief take,

Hastened by my sad example.