1 Lord, I will thee extol, for thou
hast lifted me on high,
And over me thou to rejoice
mad’st not mine enemy.
2 O thou who art the Lord my God,
I in distress to thee,
With loud cries lifted up my voice,
and thou hast healed me.
3 O Lord, my soul thou hast brought up,
and rescu’d from the grave;
That I to pit should not go down,
alive thou didst me save.
4 O ye that are his holy ones,
sing praise unto the Lord;
And give unto him thanks, when ye
his holiness record.
5 For but a moment lasts his wrath;
life in his favour lies:
Weeping may for a night endure,
at morn doth joy arise.
6 In my prosperity I said,
that nothing shall me move.
7 O Lord, thou hast my mountain made
to stand strong by thy love:
But when that thou, O gracious God,
didst hide thy face from me,
Then quickly was my prosp’rous state
turn’d into misery.
8 Wherefore unto the Lord my cry
I caused to ascend:
My humble supplication
I to the Lord did send.
9 What profit is there in my blood,
when I go down to pit?
Shall unto thee the dust give praise?
thy truth declare shall it?
10 Hear, Lord, have mercy; help me, Lord:
11 Thou turned hast my sadness
To dancing; yea, my sackcloth loos’d,
and girded me with gladness;
12 That sing thy praise my glory may,
and never silent be.
O Lord my God, for evermore
I will give thanks to thee.
Source: Scottish Psalter and Paraphrases #P32