For fee! the King of glory comes

Along th' ethereal road:

The cherubs through your folds fhall bear
The triumph of your God.

Who is this great and glorious King?
Oh! 'tis the Lord, whofe might
Decides the conqueft, and fufpends
The balance of the fight.

Lift up your stately heads, ye doors,
With hafty reverence rise;
Ye everlasting doors, who guard
The Paffes of the skies.

Swift from your golden hinges leap,

Your barriers roll away,

Now throw your blazing portals wide,
And burst the gates of day.

For fee; the King of glory comes
Along th' ethereal road:

The cherubs through your folds shall bear
The triumphs of their God.

Who is this great and glorious King?
Oh! 'tis the God, whose care

Leads on his Ifrael to the field,

Whofe

power controls the war.

VOL. LII.

F

PSALM

YE

PSALM XXIX.

E mighty princes, your oblations bring,
And pay due honours to your awful king;
His boundless power to all the world proclaim,
Bend at his fhrine, and tremble at his name.
For hark! his voice with unrefifted sway
Rules and controls the raging of the sea ;
Within due bounds the mighty ocean keeps,
And in their watery cavern awes the deeps:
Shook by that voice, the nodding groves around
Start from their roots, and fly the dreadful found.
The blafted cedars low in duft are laid,
And Lebanon is left without a fhade.

See! when he speaks, the lofty mountains croud,
And fly for shelter from the thundering God:
Sirion and Lebanon like hinds advance,
And in wild measures lead th' unwieldy dance.
His voice, his mighty voice, divides the fire,
Back from the blast the shrinking flames retire.
Ev'n Cades trembles when Jehovah speaks,
With all his favages the desert shakes.

At the dread found the hinds with fear are flung,
And in the lonely foreft drop their young.
While in his hallow'd temple all proclaim
His glorious honours, and adore his name.
High o'er the foaming furges of the fea
He fits, and bids the liftening deeps obey:

He

He reigns o'er all; for ever lafts his power
Till nature finks, and time fhall be no more.
With ftrength the fons of Ifrael fhall he bless,
And crown our tribes, with happiness and peace.

ΟΝ

PSALM XLVI.

PARAPHRASED.

N God we build our fure defence,
In God our hope repose:

His hand protects us in the fight,
And guards us from our woes.

Then, be the earth's unwieldy frame
From its foundations hurl'd,

We may, unmov'd with fear, enjoy
The ruins of the world.

What though the folid rocks be rent,
In tempefts whirl'd away?

What though the hills fhould burft their roots,

And roll into the sea?

Thou fea, with dreadful tumults fwell,

And bid thy waters rise

In furious furges, till they dash

The flood-gates of the skies.

Our minds fhall be ferene and calm,

Like Siloah's peaceful flood;

Whose soft and filver streams refresh

The city of our God.

Within the proud delighted waves,

The wanton turrets play;

The ftreams lead down their humid train,
Reluctant to the sea.

Amid the scene the temple floats,

With its reflected towers,

Gilds all the furface of the flood,
And dances to the fhores.

With wonder fee what mighty power

Our facred Sion chears,

Lo! there amidst her stately walls,
Her God, her God appears.

Fixt on her bafis fhe fhall ftand,
And, innocently proud,

Smile on the tumults of the world,
Beneath the wings of God.

See! how, their weakness to proclaim,

The heathen tribes engage!

See how with fruitless wrath they burn,

And impotence of rage!

But God has spoke; and lo! the world,
His terrors to display,

With all the melting globe of earth,

Drops filently away.

Still to the mighty Lord of hofts

Securely we refort;

For refuge fly to Jacob's God,

Our fuccour and support.

Hither,

Hither, ye numerous nations, croud,

In filent rapture stand,

And fee o'er all the earth display'd

The wonders of his hand.

He bids the din of war be still,
And all its tumults cease;

He bids the guiltless trumpet found
The harmony of peace.

He breaks the tough reluctant bow,
He burfts the brazen spear,
And in the crackling fire his hand
Confumes the blazing car.

Hear then his formidable voice,
"Be ftill, and know the Lord;

T'

PSALM XC. PARAPHRASED.

HY hand, O Lord, through rolling years

Has fav'd us from despair,

From period down to period stretch'd

The profpects of thy care.