Metrical 'New Version' (Tate/Brady)
English text
Judge me, O Lord, for I the paths
Of righteousness have trod;
I cannot fail, who all my trust
Repose on thee, my God.
Search thou my heart, whose innocence
Will shine the more 'tis tried;
For I have kept thy gace in view,
And made thy truth my guide.
I never for companions took
The idle or profane;
No hypocrite, with all his arts,
Could e'er my friendship gain.
I hate the busy plotting crew,
Who make distracted times;
And shun their wicked company,
As I avoid their crimes.
I'll wash my hands in innocence,
And bring a heart so pure,
That when thy altar I approach,
My welcome shall secure.
My thanks I'll publish there, and tell
How thy renown excels;
That seat affords me most delight,
In which thy honour dwells.
Pass not on me the sinners' doom,
Who murder make their trade;
Who others' rights, by secret bribes,
Or open force invade.
But I will walk in paths of truth,
And innocence pursue:
Protect me, therefore, and to me
Thy mercies, Lord, renew.
In spite of all assaulting foes
I still maintain my ground;
And shall survive amongst thy saints,
Thy praises to resound.
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English text
Be thou my Judge: thy searching eyes
My guiltless life have known:
On thee my stedfast soul relies,
Nor fear of lapse shall own.
O search me still; my heart, my reins,
With strictest view survey:
Thy love, great God, my hope sustains,
Thy truth directs my way.
The house of guile, and seat of lies,
With studious care I shun:
From crowds that impious deeds devise
My steps abhorrent run.
In innocence I wash my hands,
Thy altar compass round,
And grateful lead the sacred bands,
Whose hymns thy acts resound.
How oft, instinct with warmth divine,
Thy threshold have I trod!
How lov'd the courts whose walls inshrine
The glory of my God!
O let me not the vengeance share,
That waits the guilty tribe,
Whose murth'rous hands each mischief dare,
And grasp the offer'd bribe:
But pour, O pour, while thus I tread
The path by thee prepar'd,
Thy beams of mercy on my head,
And round me plant a guard.
Thou, Lord, my steps hast fix'd aright,
And pleas'd shalt hear my tongue
With Israel's thankful sons unite
To form the festal song.
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Metrical Paraphrase by Isaac Watts
English text
Self-examination; or, Evidences of grace
Judge me, O Lord, and prove my ways,
And try my reins, and try my heart
My faith upon thy promise stays,
Nor from thy law my feet depart.
I hate to walk, I hate to sit,
With men of vanity and lies
The scoffer and the hypocrite
Are the abhorrence of mine eyes.
Amongst thy saints will I appear
With frauds well washed in innocence;
But when I stand before thy bar,
The blood of Christ is my defense.
I love thy habitation, Lord,
The temple where thine honors dwell;
There shall I hear thine holy word,
And there thy works of wonder tell.
Let not my soul be joined at last
With men of treachery and blood,
Since I my days on earth have passed
Among the saints, and near my God.
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English text
Lord, be my judge, and thou shalt see
My paths be right and plain:
I trust in God, and hope that he
Will strength me to remain.
Prove me, my God, I thee desire,
My ways to search and try:
As men do prove their gold with fire,
My reins and heart espy.
Thy goodness laid before my face
I would behold always:
For of thy truth I tread the trace,
And will do all my days.
I do not lust to haunt or use
With men whose deeds are vain:
To come in house I do refuse
With the deceitful train.
I much abhor the wicked sort,
Their deeds I do despise:
I do not once to them resort
That hurtful things devise.
My hands I wash, and do proceed
In works that walk upright:
Then to thy altar I make speed,
To offer there in sight.
That I may speak and preach the praise
That doth belong to thee:
And so declare how wondrous ways
Thou hast been good to me.
O Lord, thy house I love most dear,
To me it doth excel:
I have delight and would be near
Whereas thy grace dost dwell.
O shut not up my soul with them
In sin that take their fill:
Nor yet my life among those men
That seek much blood to spill.
Whose hands are heaped with craft and guile,
Their live thereof is full:
And their right hand with wrench and wile
For bribes doth pluck and pull.
But I in righteousness intend
My time and days to serve:
Have mercy, Lord, and me defend,
So that I do not swerve.
My foot is stayed for all assays,
It standeth well and right:
Wherefore to God will I give praise,
In all the peoples sight.
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