Second PART

Those tender Mercies I proclaim, With hold not, Lord, from me; But let thy Kindness, and thy Truth, My constant Keepers be. Numberless Evils me surround, My Sins have seiz'd me fast; They blind me, they exceed my Hairs, Therefore my Heart's lay'd wast. Be pleas'd, O Lord, in this Distress, To come, and set me free; O gracious God, make no Delays, But hast to succour me. Shame, and Confusion, be their Lot, Who at my Ruin aim; May they who wish, and seek, my Hurt, Be driven back with Shame. With Desolation them reward, Who shamefully me treat; That sport themselves, and Triumph make, At mine afflicted State. Let all that seek thy Face rejoice, In Thee be satisfy'd; Who thy Salvation love, still say, "The Lord be magnify'd. Tho' I am poor, distress'd, the Lord Yet thinks on me alway: For thou my Help, and Saviour, art, My God, make no Delay.