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LXXVII. To God I cry'd who to my Help

1 To God I cry'd who to my Help
did graciously repair;
2 In Trouble's dismal Day I sought
my God with humble Pray'r.
All Night my fest'ring Wound did run;
no Med'cine gave Relief;
My soul no Comfort would admit,
my Soul indulg'd her Grief.

3 I thought on God, and Favours pass'd;
but that increas'd my Pain:
I found my Spirit more oppress'd,
the more i did complain.
4 Thro' ev'ry Watch of tedious Night
Thou keep'st my Eyes awake;
My Grief is swell'd to that Excess,
I sigh, but cannot speak.

5 I call'd to mind the Days of old,
with signal Mercy crown'd;
Those famous Years of antient Times.
for Miracles renoewn'd.
6 By Night I recollect my Songs,
on former Triumphs made;
Then search, consult, and ask my Heart,
Where's now that wond'rous Aid?

7 Has God for ever cast us off?
withdrawn His Favour quite?
8 Are both His Mercy and his Truth
retir'd to endless Night?
9 Can his long-practis'd Love forget
its wonted Aids to bring?
Has He in Wrath shut up and seal'd
His Mercy's healing Spring?

10 I said, My Weakness hints these Fears;
but I'll my Fears disband;
I'll yet remember the most High,
and Years of His Right-hand.
11 I'll call to mind his Works of old
the Wonders of His Might;
12 On them my Heart shall meditate,
my Tongue shall them recite.

13 Safe lodg'd from human Search on high,
O God, thy Councils are!
Who is so great a God as ours?
who can with Him compare?
14 Long since a God of Wonders Thee
thy rescu'd People found;
15 Long since hast Thou thy chosen Seed
with strong Deliv'rance crown'd.

16 When Thee, O God, the Waters saw,
the righted Billows shrunk;
The troubled Depths themselves for Fear
beneath their Channels sunk.
17 The Clouds pour'd down, while rending Skies
did with their Noise conspire;
Thy Arrows all abroad were snet,
wing'd with avenging Fire.

18 Heav'n with thy Thunder's Voice was torn,
whilst all the lower World
With Lightning blaz'd, Earth shook & seem'd
from her Foundations hurl'd.
19 Thro' rolling Streams Thou find'st thy Way
thy Paths in Waters lie;
Thy wond'rous Passage, where no Sight
thy Footsteps can descry.

20 Thou led'st thy People like a Flock
safe through the desart Land,
By Moses, their meek skilful Guide,
and Aaron's sacred Hand.

Text Information
First Line: To God I cry'd who to my Help
Language: English
Publication Date: 1760
Scripture:
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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