Psalm 85 (Benedixisti, Domine)

Mighty Lord, from this thy land
Never was thy love estrang'd:
Jacobs servitude thy hand
Hath we know to freedome chang'd.
All thy peoples wicked parts
Have byn banisht from thy sight,
Thou on Them hast cured quite
All the woundes of synnfull dartes.
Still thy choller quenching soe,
Heate to flame did never grow.

Now then, God, as heretofore,
God, the God that dost us save,
Change our state, in us no more,
Lett thine anger object have.
Wilt thou thus for ever grieve?
Wilt thou of thy wrathfull rage
Draw the threed from age to age?
Never us againe relieve?
Lord, yet once our hartes to joy
Show thy grace, thy help employ.

What speake I? O lett me heare
What he speakes: for speake hee will.
Peace to whome he love doth beare,
Lest they fall to folly still.
Ever nigh to such as stand
In his feare his favour is:
How can then his glory misse
Shortly to enlight our land?
Mercy now and truth shall meete:
Peace with kisse shall justice greete.

Truth shall spring in ev'ry place,
As the hearb, the earthes attire:
Justices long absent face
Heav'n shall show, and Earth admire.
Then Jehova on us will
Good on good in plenty throw:
Then shall we in gladdnes mow,
Wheras now in grief we till.
Then before him in his way
All goe right, not one shall stray.