1 When we are rais'd from deep distress,
Our God deserves a song;
We take the pattern of our praise
From Hezekiah's tongue.
2 The gates of the devouring grave
Are open'd wide in vain,
If he that holds the keys of death
Commands them fast again.
3 When he but speaks the healing word,
Then no disease withstands;
Fevers and plagues obey the Lord,
And fly, as he commands.
4 If half the strings of life should break,
He can our frame restore,
And cast our sins behind his back,
And they are found no more.
5 To him I cry'd, "Thy servant save,
Thou ever good and just;
Thy power can rescue from the grave;
Thy power is all my trust!"
6 He heard, and sav'd my soul from death,
And dry'd my falling tears;
Now to his praise I'll spend my breath,
Through my remaining years.
|First Line:||When we are rais'd from deep distress|
|Topic:||Thanksgiving after Sickness|
|Source:||Common Prayer Book|