PSALM CXXVII.

To the tune of that psalm.

IF God build not the house, and lay
The ground-work sure; whoever build,
It cannot stand one stormy day:
If God be not the city's shield;

If he be not their bars and wall,

In vain is watch-tower, men, and all. Though then thou wak'st when others rest, Though rising thou prevent'st the Sun; Though with lean Care thou daily feast, Thy labour's lost, and thou undone :

But God his child will feed and keep,
And draw the curtains to his sleep.

Though th' hast a wife fit, young, and fair,
An heritage heirs to advance;

Yet canst thou not command an heir;
For heirs are God's inheritance:

He gives the seed, the bud, the bloom;
He gives the harvest to the womb.

And look, as arrows, by strong arm
In a strong bow drawn to the head,
Where they are meant, will surely harm,
And if they hit, wound deep and dead;
Children of youth are even so;
As harmful, deadly, to a foe.
That man shall live in bliss and peace,
Who fills his quiver with such shot:
Whose garners swell with such increase,
Terrour and shame assail him not;

And though his foes deep hatred bear,
Thus arm'd, he shall not need to fear.

PSALM CXXXVII.

To be sung as, See the building.

WHERE Perah's flowers
Perfume proud Babel's bowers,

Look as a thirsty palm full Jordan drinks,
(Whose leaf and fruit still live, when winter dies)
With conqu'ring branches crowns the river's brinks;
And summer's fires, and winter's frosts defies:

Al! so the soul, whom that clear light revives, Still springs, buds, grows, and dying time survives.

But as the dust of chaff, cast in the air,
Sinks in the dirt, and turns to dung and mire ;
So sinners, driv'n to Hell by fierce despair,
Shall fry in ice, and freeze in bellish fire:

For he, whose flaming eyes all actions turn,
Sees both; to light the one, the other burn.

Their glorious beams, whose gracious sight
Fills you with joy, with life, and light;
See how with clouds of sorrow drown'd,
They wash with tears thy sinful wound :
See how with streams

Of spit th' are die nch'd;
See how their beans

With death are quench'd.

Wake, O mine ear! awake, and hear
That powerful voice, which stills thy fear,
And brings from Heaven those joyful news,
Which Heaven commands, which Hell subdues;
Hark how his ears (Heav'n's mercy-seat),
Foul slanders with reproaches beat:
Hark how the knocks

Our ears resound; Hark how their mocks

His hearing wound.

So falling low upon her humbled knees,
And all her heart within her eye expressing;
""Tis true, great Mercy, only miseries
Teach us ourselves: and thee, oh! if confessing
Our faults to thee be all our faults releasing,
But in thine ear, I never sought to hide them:
Ah! thou hast heard them oft, as oft as thou hast
ey'd them.

"I know the heart knows more than tongue can
tell;

But thou perceiv'st the heart his foulness telling:
Yet knows the heart not half, so wide an Hell,
Such seas of sin in such scant banks are swelling!
Who sees all faults within his bosom dwelling;
Many my tenants are, and I not know them.
Most dangerous the wounds thou feel'st, and canst
not show them.

"Some hidden fault, my Father, and my God,
Some fault I know not yet, nor yet amended,
Hath forc'st thee frown, and use thy smarting rod;
Some grievous fault thee grievously offended:

But let thy wrath, (ah!) let it now be ended. Father, this childish plea (if once I know it) Let stay thy threat'ning haud, I never more will do it.

"If to my heart thou show this hidden sore,
Spare me; no more, no more I will offend thee,
I dare not say I will, I would no more:
Say thou I shall, and soon I will amend me.

Then smooth thy brow, and now some comfort
lend me;

Oh, let thy softest mercies rest contented: Though late, I most repent, that I so late repented. "Lay down thy rod, and stay thy smarting hand; These raining eyes into thy bottle gather: Oh, see thy bleeding Son betwixt us stand; Remember me a child, thyself a Father:

Or, if thou may'st not stay, oh, punish rather The part offending, this rebellious heart! Why pardon'st thou the worse, and plagu'st my better part?

"Was't not thy band, that tied the sacred knot? Was't not thy hand, that to my hand did give him? Hast thou not made us one? command'st thou not, None loose what thou hast bound? If then thou (him! How, without me, by halves dost thou receive Tak'st thou the head, and car'st the heart behind?

reave him,

sway you,

Till to the long-long'd haven they convey you: Thro' many a wave this brittle life must pass, And cut the churlish seas, shipt in a bark of glass. "How many ships in quicksands swallow'd been ! What gaping waves, whales, monsters, there expect you!

How many rocks, much sooner felt than seen!
Yet let no fear, no coward fright, affect you:

He holds the stern, and he will safe direct you,
Who to my sails thus long so gently blew,
That now I touch the shore, before the seas I knew.

"I touch the shore, and see my rest preparing.
Oh, blessed God! how infinite a blessing
Is in this thought, that thro' this troubled faring,
Through all the faults this guilty age depressing
I guiltless past, no helpless man oppressing;
And coming now to thee, lift to the skies
Unbribed hands, cleans'd heart, and never tainted
eyes!

Life, life! how many Scyllas dost thou hide
In thy calm streams, which sooner kill than

threaten!

[pride! Gold, honour, greatness, and their daughter, More quiet lives, and less with tempests beaten, Whose middle state content doth richly sweeten ! He knows not strife, or brabling lawyers' brawls; His love and wish live pleas'd within his private walls.

"The king be never sees, nor fears, nor prays; Nor sits court promise and false hopes lamenting: Within that house he spends and ends his days, Where day he viewed first; his heart's contentiog,

His wife, and babes; nor sits new joys inventing: Unspotted there, and quiet, he remains ; And 'mong his duteous sons most lov'd and fearless reigns.

"Thou God of Peace, with what a gentle tide Through this world's raging tempest hast thou brought me ?

Thou, thou my open soul didst safely hide,
When thousand crafty foes so nearly sought me ;
Else had the endless pit too quickly caught me;
That endless pit, where it is easier never
To fall, than being fall'n, to cease from falling ever.

mind,

(Which last I name, but should not last be nam'd)
A sickness long my stubborn heart hath tam'd,
And taught me pleasing goods are not the best;
But most unblest he lives, that lives here ever blest.
“Ah, life! once virtue's spring, now sink of evil!
Thou change of pleasing pain, and painful pleasure;
Thou brittle painted bubble, shop o' th' Devil;
How dost thou bribe us with false guilded treasure,
That in thy joys we find no mean or measure!
How dost thou witch! I know thou dost deceive
[thee.
I know I should, I must, and yet I would not leave
Ah, death! once greatest ill, now only blessing,
Untroubled sleep, short travel, ever resting,
All sickness' cure, thou end of all distressing,
Thou one meal's fast, usher to endless feasting;
Tho' hopeless griefs cry out, thy aid requesting,
Tho' thou art sweeten'd by a life most hateful,
How is't, that when thou com'st, thy coming is
ungrateful?

me:

Frail flesh, why would'st thou keep a hated guest, And him refuse whom thou hast oft invited? Life thy tormenter, death thy sleep and rest. And thou, (poor soul!) why at his sight art frighted, Who clears thine eyes, and makes thee eaglesighted?

Mount now, my soul, and seat thee in thy throne: Thou shalt be one with him, by whom thou first

wast one.

"Why should'st thou love this star, this borrow'd

light,

And not that Sun, at which thou oft hast guessed,
But guess'd in vain? which dares thy piercing sight,
Which never was, which cannot be expressed?
Why lov'st thy load, and joy'st to be oppressed?
Seest thou those joys? those thousand thousand
graces?
[embraces.
Mount now, iny soul, and leap to those outstretch'd

"Dear country, I must leave thee; and in thee
No benefit, which most doth pierce and grieve me:
Yet, had not hasty death prevented me,
I would repay my life, and somewhat give thee:
My sens for that I leave; and so I leave thee:
Thus Heav'n commands; the lord outrides the
page,

And is arriv'd before: death hath prevented age.

"I leave them, now the trumpet calls away;
In vain thine eyes beg for some time's reprieving;
Yet in my children here immortal stay:
In one I die, in many ones a living:

[ing:

In them, and for them, stay thy too much grievLook but on them, in them thou still wilt see Marry'd with thee again thy twice-two Antony. "And when with little hands they stroke thy face, As in thy lap they sit (ah, careless!) playing, And stammering ask a kiss, give them a brace; The last from me: and then a little staying,

And in their face some part of me surveying, In them give me a third, and with a tear Show thy dear love to him,' who lov'd thee ever dear.

"Betty, let these last words long with thee dwell:
If yet a second Hymen do expect thee,
Though well be love thee, once I lov'd as well:
Yet if his presence make thee less respect me,

Ah, do not in my children's good neglect me!
Let me this faithful hope departing have;
More easy shall I die, and sleep in careless grave.
"Farewel, farewel! I feel my long long rest,
And iron sleep my leaden heart oppressing:
Night after day, sleep after labour's best;
Port after storms, joy after long distressing:
So weep thy loss, as knowing 'tis my blessing:
Both as a widow and a Christian grieve:
Still live I in thy thoughts, but as in Heav'n I live.

"Death, end of our joys, entrance into new,

I follow thee, I know I am thy debtor;
Not unexpect thou com'st to claim thy due
Take here thine own, my soul's too heavy fetter;
Not life, life's place I change, but for a better;
Take thou my soul, that bought'st it: cease your

tears:

fears."