Version of Paraphrase of the Psalm, A - Psalm 9

1.

Warm'd to its inmost depth my breast
Thanks, not by words to be express'd,
Conceives, nor shall my grateful tongue
E'er leave thy wondrous acts unsung.

2.

Thee, Lord, I boast my bliss supreme,
Thy praise my song's exhaustless theme;
O higher than the highest, hail!
Thou, Thou hast bid my cause prevail.

3.

Lo! from the terror of thine eye
My foes with stumbling step shall fly,
Or, struck by thy resistless hand,
In heaps promiscuous strew the Land.

4.

Strict Justice, Lord, supports thy throne,
And Her decrees and Thine are one;
Thy stern rebuke the Heathen feel,
Their name Oblivion's shades conceal.

5.

See, o'er their guilt-polluted plain
Destruction, Death, and Horror reign;
While, where the rural waste extends,
No more the village smoke ascends:

6.

No more their cities brave the sky,
But (ras'd by Thee,) forgotten lie,
Scarce ev'n in shapeless ruins view'd,
That mark where once the Wonder stood.

7.

But Thou, when Time shall reach its end,
Unchang'd the scepter shalt extend;
Then fill thy Throne in awful State,
While Man's whole Race thy Judgment wait.

8.

Come Ye, who in the dang'rous hour
Wish for your guard the strong-built tow'r;
Each terror to the winds resign'd,
In God a surer refuge find.

9.

The souls, that erst oppress'd with woe
Have learn'd thy name, great God, to know,
Their hope on Thee shall still sustain,
Whom none has sought, and sought in vain,

10.

In Sion God has fix'd his rest;
O be his praise aloud confest;
His Acts through ev'ry clime resound,
Far as to Earth's extremest bound.

11.

He from the proud Oppressor's hands
The poor man's guiltless blood demands,
And (nor with unregarding ear,)
His just complaint from heav'n shall hear.

12.

O Thou, whose care prolongs my breath,
And lists me from the gates of death,
Thy servant's woes attentive view,
While impious men my steps pursue:

13.

So shall thy praise employ my tongue,
And Sion 's portals hear my song,
While with experienc'd heart I show
What joys from thy Salvation flow.

14.

Low in the pit for others made
Th' artificers of death are laid,
And, struck with dire amazement, find
Their nets around themselves intwin'd.

15.

His justice thus our God displays,
And mischief with itself repays
On those who thus their Arts prepare,
And for the guiltless plant the Snare.

16.

Behold the grave its jaws extend,
While to its depths the crouds descend,
Who dare in lawless counsels join,
Forgetful of the will divine.

17.

For think not, O ye Good distress,
That in the all-remembring breast
Your woes and wrongs unnotic'd rise,
That Virtue's hope for ever dies.

18.

Up, Lord, nor let the impious soul
Build sin on sin without controul;
Thy balance, mightiest Judge, assume,
Pass on the heathen race their doom.

19.

O let thy terrors, scatter'd wide,
Correct them, till each son of pride,
By Thee convinc'd, his weakness scan,
And humbled own himself but Man.
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