6 No vain pretence to royal birth Shall fix a tyrant on the throne: God the great sovereign of the earth Will rise and make his justice known. 7 [His hand holds out the dreadful cup Of vengeance, mix'd with various plagues, To make the wicked drink them up, Wring out and taste the bitter dregs. 8 Now shall the Lord exalt the just, And while he tramples on the proud, And lays their glory in the dust, My lips shall sing his praise aloud.] Psalm 76. Israel saved, and the Assyrians destroyed; or, God's vengeance against his enemies proceeds from his church. 1 In Judah God of old was known; His Name in Israel great; In Salem stood his holy throne, And Sion was his seat. 2 Among the praises of his saints His dwelling there he chose; There he receiv'd their just complaints Against their haughty foes. 3 From Sion went his dreadful word, And broke the threatening spear; The bow, the arrows, and the sword, And crush'd th' Assyrian war. 4 What are the earth's wide kingdoms else But mighty hills of prey? The hill on which Jehovah dwells Is glorious more than they. 5 'Twas Sion's King that stopt the breath Of captains and their bands: The men of might slept fast in death, And never found their hands. 6 At thy rebuke, O Jacob's God, Both horse and chariot fell; Who knows the terrors of thy rod? Thy vengeance who can tell? 7 What power can stand before thy sight When once thy wrath appears? When heaven shines round with dreadful light, The earth lies still and fears. 8 When God in his own sovereign ways Comes down to save th' opprest, The wrath of man shall work his praise, And he'll restrain the rest. 9 [Vow to the Lord, and tribute bring, Ye princes, fear his frown: His terror shakes the proudest king, And cuts an army down. 10 The thunder of his sharp rebuke Our haughty foes shall feel: For Jacob's God hath not forsook, But dwells in Sion still.] Psalm 77:1. First Part. Melancholy assaulting, and hope prevailing. 1 To God I cry'd with mournful voice, I sought his gracious ear, In the sad day when troubles rose, And fill'd the night with fear. 2 Sad were my days, and dark my nights, My soul refus'd relief; I thought on God the just and wise, But thoughts increas'd my grief. 3 Still I complain'd, and still opprest, My heart began to break; My God, thy wrath forbid my rest, And kept my eyes awake. 4 My overwhelming sorrows grew Till I could speak no more; Then I within myself withdrew, And call'd thy judgments o'er. 5 I call'd back years and ancient times, When I beheld thy face; My spirit search'd for secret crimes That might withhold thy grace. 6 I call'd thy mercies to my mind Which I enjoy'd before; And will the Lord no more be kind? His face appear no more? 7 Will he for ever cast me off? His promise ever fail? Has he forgot his tender love? Shall anger still prevail? 8 But I forbid this hopeless thought, This dark despairing frame, Rememb'ring what thy hand hath wrought, Thy hand is still the same.