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PSALM 114. L.M.
Miracles attending Israel's journey. (cont.)

6	Flints spring with fountains at his word, And fires and seas confess the Lord.

PSALM 115. L.M.
The true God is our refuge; or, Idolatry reproved.

1	NOT to ourselves, who are but dust, Not to ourselves is glory due; 'Tis thine, great God, the only just, The only gracious, wise, and true.
2	Shine forth in all thy dreadful name; Why should a heathen's haughty tongue Insult us; and, to raise our shame, Say, "Where's the God you've serv'd so long?
3	The God, we serve, maintains his throne Above the clouds, beyond the skies: Thro' all the earth his will is done, He knows our groans, he hears our cries.
4	But the vain idols, they adore, Are senseless shapes of stone and wood; At best a mass of glitt'ring ore, A silver saint, or golden god,
5	With eyes and ears they carve the head; Deaf are their ears, their eyes are blind; To them in vain are off'rings made, And vows are scattered in the wind.
6	Their feet were never made to move, Nor hands to save when mortals pray; Mortals, that pay them fear or love, Seem to be blind and deaf, as they.
7	O Israel! make the Lord thy hope, Thy help, thy refuge and thy rest; The Lord shall build thy ruins up, And bless the people and the priest.
8	The dead no more can speak thy praise They dwell in silence and the grave;

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PSALM 115. L.M.
The true God is our refuge; or, Idolatry reproved. (cont.)

8	But we shall live to sing thy grace, And tell the world thy pow'r to save.

PSALM 116. First Part. C.M.
Recovery from sickness.

1	I LOVE the Lord; he heard my cries,    And pitied ev'ry groan: Long as I live, when troubles rise,    I'll hasten to his throne.
2	I love the Lord; he bow'd his ear,    And chas'd my griefs away: O! let my heart no more despair,    While I have breath to pray.
3	My flesh declin'd, my spirits fell,    And I drew near the dead; While inward pangs, and fears of hell    Perplex'd my wakeful head.
4	"My God," I cried, "thy servant save,    "Thou ever good and just; "Thy pow'r can rescue from the grave,    "Thy pow'r is all my trust."
5	The Lord beheld me sore distrest,    He bade my pains remove: Return, my soul, to God, thy rest,    For thou hast known his love.
6	My God hath sav'd my soul from death,    And dried my falling tears: Now to his praise I'll spend my breath,    And my remaining years.

PSALM 116. Second Part. C.M.
Public thanks for private deliverance.

1	WHAT shall I render to my God,    For all his kindness shown? My feet shall visit thine abode,    My songs address thy throne.