8 The night is witness to my tears, Distressing pains, distressing fears; O might I hear thy morning voice, How would my weary'd powers rejoice! 9 In thee I trust, to thee I sigh, And lift my heavy soul on high, For thee sit waiting all the day, And wear the tiresome hours away. 10 Break off my fetters, Lord, and show Which is the path my feet should go; If snares and foes beset the road, I flee to hide me near my God. 11 Teach me to do thy holy will, And lead me to thy heavenly hill; Let the good Spirit of thy love Conduct me to thy courts above. 12 Then shall my soul no more complain, The tempter then shall rage in vain; And flesh that was my foe before, Shall never vex my spirit more. Psalm 144:1. 1 2. First Part. Assistance and victory in the spiritual warfare. 1 For ever blessed be the Lord, My Saviour and my shield; He sends his Spirit with his word To arm me for the field. 2 When sin and hell their force unite, He makes my soul his care, Instructs me to the heavenly fight, And guards me thro' the war. 3 A friend and helper so divine Doth my weak courage raise; He makes the glorious victory mine, And his shall be the praise. Psalm 144:2. 3 4 5 6. Second Part. The vanity of man, and condescension of God. 1 Lord, what is man, poor feeble man, Born of the earth at first! His life a shadow, light and vain, Still hasting to the dust. 2 O what is feeble dying man Or any of his race, That God should make it his concern To visit him with grace! 3 That God who darts his lightnings down, Who shakes the worlds above, And mountains tremble at his frown, How wondrous is his love. Psalm 144:3. 12-15. Third Part. Grace above riches; or, The happy nation. 1 Happy the city, where their sons Like pillars round a palace set, And daughters bright as polish'd stones Give strength and beauty to the state. 2 Happy the country, where the sheep, Cattle, and corn, have large increase; Where men securely work or sleep, Nor sons of plunder break the peace. 3 Happy the nation thus endow'd, But more divinely blest are those On whom the all-sufficient God Himself with all his grace bestows. Psalm 145:1. L. M. The greatness of God. 1 My God, my King, thy various praise Shall fill the remnant of my days; Thy grace employ my humble tongue Till death and glory raise the song. 2 The wings of every hour shall bear Some thankful tribute to thine ear; And every setting sun shall see New works of duty done for thee. 3 Thy truth and justice I'll proclaim; Thy bounty flows, an endless stream, Thy mercy swift, thine anger slow, But dreadful to the stubborn foe. 4 Thy works with sovereign glory shine, And speak thy majesty divine; Let Britain round her shores proclaim The sound and honour of thy Name. 5 Let distant times and nations raise The long succession of thy praise; And unborn ages make my song The joy and labour of their tongue.