English'd.

Who taught Salmafius, that French chattering Pye,
To aim at English, and Hundreda cry?

The starving Rafcal, flusht with just a hundred
English Jacobus's Hundreda blunder'd;

An Outlaw'd King's last Stock.---A hundred more
Wou'd make him pimp for th' Antichriftian Whore;
And in Rome's Praife imploy his poifon'd Breath,
Who threatened once to ftink the Pope to Death.

PSALM I.
Done into Verfe, 1653.

B

Lefs'd is the man, who hath not walk'd aftray In counsel of the Wicked, and i'th' way of finners hath not stood, and in the feat Of fcorners hath not fat: but in the great Jehovah's Law is ever his delight, And in his Law he ftudies day and night: He shall be as a tree, which planted grows By watry ftreams, and in his Seafon knows To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall; And what he takes in hand fhall profper all. Not fo the wicked; but as chaff which fann'd The wind drives, fo the wicked shall not stand

In

In judgment, or abide their trial then,
Nor finners in th' affembly of just men.
For the Lord knows th' upright way of the just,
And the way of bad men to ruin must.

PSA L. II. done Aug. 8. 1653. Terzette.

Hy do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations
Mufe a vain thing, the Kings of th' Earth
upftand

With pow'r, and Princes in their Congregations
Lay deep their plots together through each land
Against the Lord and his Meffiah dear?

Let us break off, fay they, by strength of hand Their bonds, and caft from us, no more to wear, Their twisted cords. He who in Heav'n doth

dwell

Shall laugh, the Lord fhall fcoff them, then fevere Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell

And fierce ire trouble them; but I, faith he, Anointed have my King (though ye rebel) On Sion's holy hill. A firm decree

I will declare; The Lord to me hath faid, Thou art my Son, I have begotten thee This day; afk of me, and the grant is made: As thy poffeffion, I on thee bestow

Th' Heathen, and, as thy Conquest to be sway'd, Earth's utmost bounds: them fhalt thou bring full

low

With Iron Sceptre bruis'd, and them difperfe
Like to a potter's veffel fhiver'd fo.

And

And now be wife at length, ye Kings averfe,

Be taught, ye Judges of the Earth; with fear
Jehovah ferve, and let your joy converse
With trembling; kifs the Son left he appear
In anger, and ye perish in the way,

If once his wrath take fire like fuel fere;
Happy all those who have in him their stay.

L

PSAL. III. Aug. 9. 1653.

When he fled from Abfalom.

Ord, how many are my foes!
How many those,

That in arms against me rife!
Many are they,

That of my life diftruftfully thus fay,
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou, Lord, art my shield, my glory,
Thee through my story

Th' exalter of my head I count;
Aloud I cry'd

Unto Jehovah; he full foon reply'd,
And heard me from his holy mount.
I lay and flept, I wak'd again,
For my fuftain

Was the Lord. Of many millions

The populous rout

I fear not, though encamping round about

They pitch against me their Pavilions.

Rife,

Rife, Lord, fave me, my God, for thou

Haft fmote ere now

On the cheek-bone all my foes,

Of men abhorr'd

[Lord;

Haft broke the teeth. This help was from the Thy bleffing on thy people flows.

A

PSAL. IV. Aug. 10. 1653.

Nfwer me, when I call,
God of my righteousness,

In ftraights and in distress
Thou didft me difinthrall

And fet at large; now spare,

Now pity me, and hear my earnest pray'r.

Great ones, how long will ye

My glory have in scorn;

How long be thus forborn

Still to love vanity,

To love, to feek, to prize

Things false and vain, and nothing else but lyes?

Yet know, the Lord hath chofe,

Chofe to himself apart,

The good and meek of heart:

(For whom to choose he knows.)

Jehovah from on high

Will hear my voice what time to him I cry.

Be aw'd, and do not fin;

Speak to your hearts alone,
Upon your beds, each one,
And be at peace within:

Offer

Offer the offerings just

Of righteousness, and in Jehovah trust
Many there be that say,

Who yet will fhew us good?
Talking like this world's brood:

But, Lord, thus let me pray,
On us lift up the light,

Lift up the favour of thy countenance bright,

Into my heart more joy

And gladness thou haft put,

Than when a year of glut

Their ftores doth over-cloy,

And from their plenteous grounds

With vaft increase their corn and wine abounds.

In peace at once will I

Both lay me down and sleep,

For thou alone doft keep

Me fafe where-e'er I lie;

As in a rocky Cell,

Thou, Lord, alone in fafety mak'ft me dwell.

PSAL. V. Aug. 12. 1653.

Ehovah, to my words give ear,

Jho

My meditation weigh,

The voice of my complaining hear,

My King and God; for unto thee I pray.

Jehovah, thou my early voice

Shalt in the morning hear,

I'th' morning I to thee with choice

Will rank my Prayers, and watch till thou appear.

For