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PSALM 139. Fourth Part. L.M.
Grace tried. (cont.)

3	Lord, search my soul, try ev'ry thought: Tho' my own heart accuse me not Of walking in a false disguise; I beg the trial of thine eyes.
4	Doth secret mischief lurk within? Do I indulge some unknown sin? O turn my feet whene'er I stray! And lead me in thy perfect way.

PSALM 140. S.M.
A complaint against personal enemies.

1	MY God, while impious men,    With malice in their heart, My peace destroy, my life defame,    Thy guardian grace impart.
2	With poison in their lips,    And with a serpent's tongue, They sting my fainting soul to death,    And make my name their song.
3	Ceaseless they lie in wait    My footsteps to betray; They hide their snare, they set their gin,    Beside my peaceful way.
4	O hear my humble cry!    Their fondest hope destroy; Their arts confound, their plots disclose,    And blast their envious joy.
5	On their own heads shall fall    The mischiefs they devise; Thy hand shall take them in their net,    Their slanders, and their lies.
6	As coals the wood consume,    As pits receive their slain; So shall the men of malice sink,    And never rise again.

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PSALM 140. S.M.
A complaint against personal enemies. (cont.)

76	The Lord, who hates the proud,    Shall scorch the sland'rous tongue; Shall hunt the wicked from the earth,    And well requite their wrong.
8	Thou wilt sustain the poor,    And bid th' afflicted sing; Before thee, shall thy children dwell,    Their Father, and their King.

PSALM 141. L.M.
Brotherly reproof. A morning or evening Psalm.

1	MY God, accept my early vows, Like morning incense in thy house; And let my nightly worship rise Sweet as the ev'ning sacrifice.
2	Watch o'er my lips, and guard them, Lord, From ev'ry rash and heedless word; Nor let my feet incline to tread The guilty path, where sinners lead.
3	O may the righteous, when I stray, Smite and reprove my wand'ring way! Their gentle words, like ointment shed, Shall never bruise but cheer my head.
4	When I behold them prest with grief, I'll cry to heav'n for their relief; And by my warm petitions prove How much I prize their faithful love.

PSALM 142. C.M.
God is the hope of the helpless.

1	TO God I made my sorrows known,    From God I sought relief; In long complaints before his throne    I pour'd out all my grief.
2	My soul was overwhelm'd with woes,    My heart began to break: