4 Happy the man to whom he sends Obedient children, faithful friends: How sweet our daily comforts prove When they are season'd with his love! Psalm 127:2. C. M. God all in all. 1 If God to build the house deny, The builders work in vain; And towns, without his wakeful eye, An useless watch maintain. 2 Before the morning beams arise, Your painful work renew, And till the stars ascend the skies Your tiresome toil pursue. 3 Short be your sleep, and coarse your fare; In vain, till God has blest; But if his smiles attend your care, You shall have food and rest. 4 Nor children, relatives, nor friends Shall real blessings prove, Nor all the earthly joys he sends, If sent without his love. Psalm 128. Family blessings. 1 O happy man, whose soul is fill'd With zeal and reverend awe; His lips to God their honours yield, His life adorns the law. 2 A careful providence shall stand And ever guard thy head, Shall on the labours of thy hand Its kindly blessings shed. 3 [Thy wife shall be a fruitful vine; Thy children round thy board, Each like a plant of honour shine, And learn to fear the Lord.] 4 The Lord shall thy best hopes fulfil For months and years to come; The Lord who dwells on Zion's hill, Shall send thee blessings home. 5 This is the man whose happy eyes Shall see his house increase, Shall see the sinking church arise, Then leave the world in peace. Psalm 129. Persecutors punished. 1 Up from my youth, may Israel say, Have I been nurs'd in tears; My griefs were constant as the day, And tedious as the years. 2 Up from my youth I bore the rage Of all the sons of strife; Oft they assail'd my riper age, But not destroy'd my life. 3 Their cruel plough had torn my flesh With furrows long and deep, Hourly they vex my wounds afresh, Nor let my sorrows sleep. 4 The Lord grew angry on his throne, And with impartial eye Measur'd the mischiefs they had done Then let his arrows fly. 5 How was their insolence surpris'd To hear his thunders roll! And all the foes of Zion seiz'd With horror to the soul. 6 Thus shall the men that hate the saints Be blasted from the sky; Their glory fades, their courage faints, And all their projects die. 7 [What tho' they flourish tall and fair, They have no root beneath; Their growth shall perish in despair, And lie despis'd in death.] 8 [So corn that on the house-top stands No hope of harvest gives; The reaper ne'er shall fill his hands, Nor binder fold the sheaves. 9 It springs and withers on the place: No traveller bestows A word of blessing on the grass, Nor minds it as he goes.] Psalm 130:1. C. M. Pardoning grace. 1 Out of the deeps of long distress, The borders of despair, I sent my cries to seek thy grace, My groans to move thine ear. 2 Great God, should thy severer eye, And thine impartial hand, Mark and revenge iniquity, No mortal flesh could stand. 3 But there are pardons with my God For crimes of high degree; Thy Son has bought them with his blood To draw us near to thee.