PAGE 088:
PSALM 48. Second Part. S.M.
The worship and order of the Church. (cont.)
1 |
Thy saints, O Lord, before thy throne,
Their songs of honour raise.
|
2 |
With joy thy people stand
On Zion's chosen hill,
Proclaim the wonders of thy hand,
And counsels of thy will.
|
3 |
Let strangers walk around
The city where we dwell,
Compass and view thy holy ground,
And mark the building well;
|
4 |
The orders of thy house,
The worship of thy court,
The cheerful songs, the solemn vows,
And make a fair report.
|
5 |
How decent and how wise!
How glorious to behold!
Beyond the pomp that charms the eyes,
And rites adorn'd with gold.
|
6 |
The God we worship now,
Will guide us till we die;
Will be our God while here below,
And ours above the sky.
|
PSALM 49. First Part. C.M.
The vanity of life and riches.
1 |
WHY doth the man of riches grow
to insolence and pride;
To see his wealth and honours flow
With ev'ry rising tide?
|
2 |
Why doth he treat the poor with scorn,
Made of the self-same clay;
And boast as tho' his flesh were born
Of better dust than they?
|
3 |
Not all his treasures can procure
His soul a short reprieve;
|
|
PAGE 089:
PSALM 49. First Part. C.M.
The vanity of life and riches. (cont.)
3 |
Redeem from death one guilty hour,
Or make his brother live.
|
4 |
Life is a blessing can't be sold,
The ransom is too high;
Justice will ne'er be brib'd with gold,
That man may never die.
|
5 |
He sees the brutish and the wise,
The tim'rous and the brave,
Quit their possessions, close their eyes,
And hasten to the grave.
|
6 |
Yet 'tis his inward thought and pride,
"My house shall ever stand;
"And that my name may long abide,
"I'll give it to my land."
|
7 |
Vain are his thoughts, his hopes are lost,
How soon his mem'ry dies!
His name is buried in the dust,
Where his own carcass lies.
|
8 |
This is the folly of their way;
And yet their sons, as vain,
Approve the words their fathers say,
And act their works again.
|
9 |
Men void of wisdom and of grace,
If honour raise them high,
Live like the beasts, a thoughtless race,
And like the beasts they die.
|
10 |
Laid in the grave like silly sheep,
Death feeds upon them there;
'Till the last trumpet breaks their sleep
In terror and despair.
|
PSALM 49. Second Part. C.M.
Death and the resurrection.
1 |
YE sons of pride that hate the just,
And trample on the poor;
|
|