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PSALM 74. First Part. C.M.
The church pleading under sore prosecution. (cont.)

4	Over thy gates their ensigns hang,    Sad tokens of their pow'r.
5	How are the seats of worship broke!    They tear the buildings down: And he, that deals, the heaviest stroke,    Procures the chief renown.
6	With flames they threaten to destroy    Thy children in their nest: "Come, let us burn at once," they cry,    "The temple and the priest."
7	And still to heighten our distress,    Thy presence is withdrawn; Thy wonted signs of pow'r and grace,    Thy pow'r and grace are gone.
8	No prophet speaks to calm our woes,    The best, the wisest, mourn: And not a friend, nor promise, shows    The time of thy return.

PSALM 74. Second Part. C.M.
A prayer of the church for deliverance from great afflictions.

1	HOW long, eternal God, how long,    Shall men of pride blaspheme! Shall saints be made their endless song,    And bear immortal shame?
2	Is not the world of nature thine,    The darkness and the day? Didst thou not bid the morning shine,    And mark the sun his way?
3	Hath not thy pow'r form'd ev'ry coast,    And set the earth its bounds; With summer's heat and winter's frost,    In their perpetual rounds?
4	And shall the sons of earth and dust    That sacred pow'r blaspheme?

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PSALM 74. Second Part. C.M.
A prayer of the church for deliverance from great afflictions. (cont.)

4	Will not thy hand that form 'd them first,    Avenge thine injur'd name?
5	Think on the cov'nant thou hast made,    And all thy words of love; Nor let the birds of prey invade,    And vex thy mourning dove.
6	Our foes would triumph in our blood,    And make our hope their jest: Plead thy own cause, Almighty God,    And give thy children rest.

PSALM 75. L.M.
The hand of God acknowledged.

1	TO thee, most high and holy God, To thee our thankful hearts we raise; Thy works declare thy name abroad, Thy wond'rous works demand our praise.
2	To slav'ry doom'd, thy chosen sons Beheld their foes triumphant rise; And sore opprest by earthly thrones, They sought the sov'reign of the skies.
3	'Twas then, great God, with equal pow'r Arose thy vengeance and thy grace, To scourge their legions from the shore, And save the remnant of thy race.
4	Thy hand, that form'd the restless main, And rear'd the mountain's awful head, Bade raging seas their course restrain, And desert wilds receive their dead.
5	Such wonders never come by chance, Nor can the wind such blessings blow: 'Tis God the judge doth one advance, 'Tis God that lays another low.
6	Let haughty tyrants sink their pride, Nor lift so high their scornful head;