1 I'll celebrate thy praises, Lord,
who didst thy pow'r employ
To raise my drooping head, and check
my foe's insulting joy.
2, 3 In my distress I cry'd to thee,
who kindly didst relieve,
And from the grave's expecting jaws
my hopeless life retrieve.
4 Thus to his courts ye saints of his,
with songs of praise repair;
With me commemorate his truth,
and providential care.
5 His wrath has but a moment's reign,
his favour no decay;
Your night of grief is recompens'd
with joy's returning day.
6 But I, in prosp'rous days, presum'd;
no sudden change I fear'd;
Whilst in my sunshine of success
no low'ring cloud appear'd.
7 But soon I found thy favour, Lord,
my empire's only trust;
For when thou hidd'st thy face, I saw
my honour laid in dust.
8 Then, as I vainly had presum'd
my error I confess'd;
And thus with supplicating voice,
thy mercy's throne address'd:
9 "What profit is there in my blood,
"congeal'd by death's cold night?
"Can silent ashes speak thy praise,
"thy wond'rous truth recite?
10 "Hear me, O Lord; in mercy hear;
"thy wonted aid extend;
"Do thou send help, on whom alone
"I can for help depend."
11 'Tis done! thou hast my mournful scene
to songs and dances turn'd;
Invested me in robes of state,
who late in sackcloth mourn'd.
12 Exalted thus, I'll gladly sing
thy praise in grateful verse;
And, as thy favours endless are,
thy endless praise rehearse.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | I'll celebrate thy praises, Lord |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |
Scripture: |