New flowers and fountains new; I love to drink
Of the pure stream fresh-welling, and to cull
A wreath of orient hues and odours rare,
Whence never poet yet his chaplet wove.
PSALM LXXII.
ABRIDGED, AND ADAPTED[22] TO A PARTICULAR TUNE.
Lord, to the King thy judgments give,
Give to his Son thy righteousness:
So shall thy people safely live,
So he thy chosen flock shall bless.