THE PSALMS of DAVID, PSALM LXXXI

With raised Voice, to God, our Strength, Aloud his Praises sing; With Shouting, make a joyful Noise, To Iacob's God, and King. Strike up a Psalm, the Timbrel bring, And with your Voices join; The pleasant Harp, and Psaltery, In Consort sweet combine. The Trumpet blow, in the New-Moon; When our Feast-Days arrive. To Isr'el, for a Statute Law, This Iacob's God did give. This Witness he, in Ioseph, set, When thorough Egypt's Land He went; where we a Language heard, We could not understand. Then, from his Shoulders, I remov'd, The Burden on him lay; His Hands then ceased from the Pots, And working in the Clay. In thy Distress, thou call'dst on me, And I thy Griefs remov'd; In Thunders secret Place reply'd, At Massah's Stream thee prov'd.