Psalm 118

Praise our good God, that King of kings,
From whom eternall Mercy springs.
Let Israel, let Aarons Race,
Let all that flourish in his Grace,
Confesse, that from the King of kings
Eternity of Mercie springs.
He in my trouble heard my Prayers,
And freed me from their deadly snares:
He fights my Battailes; then how can
I feare the Power of feeble Man?
Assists my Friends; my Enemies
Shall with their slaughter feast mine eyes.
Farre better to have Confidence
In God, then trust to mans Defence:
On him much safer to relie,
Then on the strength of Monarchy.
The Nations all at once assail'd;
But by his Aid my Sword prevail'd.
Their Armies had beset me round;
I with their Bodies strew'd the ground.
Though they like Bees about me swarme;
His holy Name and pow'rfull Arme
Shall soone consume their numerous powers,
As Fire the crackling Thorne devoures.
Mad men! his Fall you seeke in vaine,
Whom great Jehovah's Hands sustaine.
He is my Strength; his Praise my Song:
By him preserv'd from powerfull Wrong.
Our Tents with publike Joy shall ring:
The Just of their Deliverance sing.
He with his owne Right hand hath fought;
His owne Right hand hath Wonders wrought,
I shall not die, but live to praise
The Lord, who hath prolong'd my Daies.
He with his Scourge my Sin corrects;
Yet from the Darts of Death protects.
You to his Service sanctifi'd,
The Temple Doores set open wide;
That I may enter in his Name,
And celebrate his glorious Fame.
Those are the Doores, at which all they
Shall enter, who his Will obey.
His Praise with Hymnes immortallize!
My Saviour, who hath heard my Cries.
That Stone the Builders from them cast;
Is highest on the corner plac't.
God hath reveal'd these Mysteries,
So full of Wonder, to our Eyes.
This is his Day; a Day of Joy;
Of everlasting Memory.
Great God of gods, thy King protect;
Propitious prove to thy Elect.
O blest be he, whom God shall send!
We, who within his Courts attend,
You from his Sanctuary blesse;
And daily pray for your successe.
God, even the Lord, hath shed his light
Into our Soules, and clear'd our sight.
Bind to the Altars hornes a Lambe,
New-weaned from the bleating Dam.
Thou art my God; my Songs shall praise,
And to the Stars thy Glory raise.
Praise our good God, The King of kings;
From whom eternall Mercy springs.