With All My Heart Eternal God

With all my heart, eternal God,
I’ll celebrate thy praise;
I’ll shew forth all thy wondrous works,
Of judgment, and of grace.
With gladness I will tune my song;
In thee I will rejoice’
O thou Most-high! praise to thy name,
I’ll sing with cheerful voice.

When thou shalt rout my haughty foes,
And put their troops to flight;
With terror, at thy presence struck
They fall, and perish quite.
For thou my right had still maintained,
And made my cause thine own;
In righteousness thou judged hast,
From thine imperial throne.

The heathen thou hast sure rebuked,
And laid the wicked waste;
Thou hast cast out their name as vile.
Them evermore disgraced.
O thou proud foe, thy wasting power
To utter end is brought!
Their cities thou hast overthrown,
Their name is quite forgot.

But God, the Lord, for evermore,
Remains the living One;
Who, from of old, for judgment hath
Prepared his royal throne.
And he, the nations of the earth,
Shall judge in righteousness;
Unbiased judgment he shall give
To greater, and the less,

The Lord will prove a sure defense
To them that are oppressed;
And when distressing times prevail.
His refuge yields them rest.
Therefore, all they that know thy name,
Their trust in thee will place:
For thou, Lord, ne’er forsakest those.
Who humbly seek thy face.

Second Part

Sing praises to the Lord, who dwells
In Zion, his chief care;
The many wonders he hath done.
To all the world declare.
When he, for flood, inquiry makes,
His vengeance speedy flies;
The meek oppressed he’ll not forget,
But hear their humble cries.

Have mercy on me, Lord, and weigh
The troubles which I bear,
From envious foes; O thou who dost
From gates of death me rear.
That I, amidst assembled crowds,
May show forth all thy praise,
In Zion’s gates; and shouts of joy,
In thy salvation raise.

Down in the pit the heathen sink.
Which they themselves have made;
Their own foot’s taken in the net,
Which guilefully they laid.
Thus, by the judgments he deals forth,
Jehovah is made known!
While impious men are justly snared.
In works that, are their own.

The wicked shall, at length, be turned
Down to a painful hell;
There all the nations of the earth,
That God forget, shall dwell.
The humble shall not be forgot.
And fruitlessly complain;
Nor shall the poor oppressed man’s hope
Forever be in vain.

Rise, Lord, and let not wicked men
Prevail against my right;
O, let the heathen world be judged.
In thine all-piercing sight.
O Lord, with terrors strike their minds,
Fill them with dread of thee;
That they’re but feeble, mortal, men,
The nations all may see.

A New Version of the Psalms of David,