Words: Brady and Tate, A New Version of the Psalms of David
1 I'll celebrate thy praises, Lord, who didst thy pow'r employ To raise my drooping head, and check my foes insulting joy. 2,3 In my distress, I cried 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 favor no decay; Your night of grief is recompensed with joy's returning day. 6 But I in prosp'rous days presumed; no sudden change I feared, Whilst in my sunshine of success no low'ring cloud appeared. 7 But soon I found thy favor, Lord, my empire's only trust; For when thou hid'st thy face, I saw my honor laid in dust. 8 Then, as I vainly had presumed, my error I confessed; And thus, with supplicating voice, thy mercy's throne addressed: 9 "What profit is there in my blood, congealed by death's cold night? Can silent ashes speak thy praise, thy wondrous 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 turned; Invested me with robes of state, who late in sackcloth mourned. 12 Exalted thus, I'll gladly: sing thy praise in grateful verse; And, as thy favors endless are, Thy endless praise rehearse.