5 [With eyes, and ears they carve their head, Deaf are their ears, their eyes are blind; In vain are costly offerings made, And vows are scatter'd 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; But we shall live to sing thy grace, And tell the world thy power to save. Psalm 115:2. Second Metre. As the new tune of the 50th Psalm. Popish idolatry reproved. A psalm for the 5th of November. 1 Not to our names, thou only Just and True, Not to our worthless names is glory due; Thy power and grace, thy truth and justice claim Immortal honours to thy sovereign Name: Shine thro' the earth from heaven, thy blest abode, Nor let the heathens say, "And where's your God?" 2 Heaven is thine higher court; there stands thy throne, And thro' the lower worlds thy will is done: Our God fram'd all this earth, these heavens he spread, But fools adore the gods their hands have made: The kneeling crowd, with looks devout, behold Their silver saviours, and their saints of gold. 3 [Vain are those artful shapes of eyes and ears; The molten image neither sees nor hears: Their hands are helpless, nor their feet can move, They have no speech, nor thought, nor power, nor love; Yet sottish mortals make their long complaints To their deaf idols, and their moveless saints. 4 The rich have statues well adorn'd with gold; The poor, content with gods of coarser mould, With tools of iron carve the senseless stock, Lopt from a tree, or broken from a rock: People and priest drive on the solemn trade, And trust the gods that saws and hammers made.] 5 Be heaven and earth amaz'd! 'Tis hard to say Which is more stupid, or their gods or they: O Israel, trust the Lord, he hears and sees, He knows thy sorrows, and restores thy peace: His worship does a thousand comforts yield, He is thy help, and he thy heavenly shield. 6 O Britain, trust the Lord: thy foes in vain Attempt thy ruin, and oppose his reign; Had they prevail'd, darkness had clos'd our days, And death and silence had forbid his praise; But we are sav'd, and live: let songs arise, And Britain bless the God that built the skies. Psalm 116:1. First Part. Recovery from sickness. 1 I love the Lord; he heard my cries, And pity'd every 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 cry'd "thy servant save, "Thou ever good and just; "Thy power can rescue from the grave, "Thy power is all my trust."